Delinquents and Misfits of all ages
by zoenka
Summary: AU. Doccubuss. Bo and Lauren meet in High School (because I think Lauren would have been such an adorable little geek), but get separated and eventually reconnect after years apart. Slow burn, but Doccubuss is the end game. My first fanfic, please review so I know what to improve on!
1. Chapter 1

Laurent hurried down the corridor, already 5 minutes late for her English Lit class, when she heard a group of students behind her. She felt her stomach churn at what was likely to happen next.

"Hey shrimp, hold up!" someone yelled behind her. Lauren ignored them and kept moving until another body blocked her forward movement.

"What's your rush, girly?" Lauren looked up at a larger girl blocking her. She didn't know her name, but she was sure she saw the girl in one of her classes, probably even one she was now late for. The group that she heard behind her had now caught up with them, and Lauren had dropped her backpack and turned a full circle slowly. There were 5 girls surrounding her, all older and taller than her. No matter, she thought to herself. Whatever they were going to do was going to happen, but she would remember their faces and stay clear of them from now on.

One of the girls prodded her in the back "Are you a deaf-mute, shrimp?" She made some meowing noises, and the others around Lauren laughed and prodded her from all sides. Lauren privately thought that the sounds ware more reminiscent of a dying walrus than anything that a real deaf-mute was likely to produce, but outwardly didn't react to the provocation. She knew it would only prolong their abuse if she let on that any of it was bothering her.

Lauren thought she may have spaced out for a few moments, because when she refocused on the here and now, the girls around her were laughing again, presumably at a new joke. They were also looking around to make sure they were not seen. Lauren closed her eyes and tried to relax her muscles in preparation for what was to come next. She heard grinding of metal hinges and felt herself picked up and shoved into a nearby locker. Then the door was slammed shut, and she was engulfed in darkness. She took a deep breath and tried to relax in the narrow, smelly metal box. She knew she'd be there until the end of the period.

Suddenly, the door was yanked open and Lauren had to blink to readjust to the light. She was surprised, expecting to spend the next 40 minutes or so in the locker. Instead, she knew that no more than 3 minutes has passed since she heard her tormentors depart. She looked up to find the same girl who had blocked her earlier standing in front of her now, her expression more concerned than mean.

"Are you a retard?" the older girl asked.

"No, and please don't use that word around me" Lauren stepped out of the locker and tried to walk around the girl to where her backup was still sitting where she dropped it. But a strong hand held her in place, pressing her against the row of lockers.

"Then why didn't you scream for help or something?"

"What's it to you?" Lauren was honestly confused at this point. Usually people who stuffed her in lockers didn't stop to ask her any questions.

"Look, I'm all for having some fun and all, but I'm not down with fucking up someone retar… uh…" She stopped before using the term again, obviously looking for another word, "mentally impaired."

"I'm not impaired in any way. I'm actually very intelligent." Laurent tried to move again, but the hand on her shoulder held her steady. Obviously, this girl wasn't going to let her go until she satisfied her curiosity. The situation was new to Lauren. She was used to bullying of every kind, but this questioning was new and didn't seem to be overly cruel. If it wasn't for the hand holding her captive, it would almost feel like a normal conversation.

"Then why didn't you call for help?" The girl asked Lauren again.

"Wouldn't change anything." Lauren shrugged and looked at her feet, bad memories of past encounters flushing before her eyes.

The other girl seemed to sense that Lauren was hurting and took her hand off of Lauren's shoulder, stepping back a bit to give her some space.

"How many lockers have you be stuffed into before?" her voice was gentler now, and Laurent chanced looking up again.

"Eight," she answered somewhat meekly.

"You've been stuffed into a locker eight times?! I thought you just started here in Sacred Heart!"

Lauren shook her head no. "I've been locked in lockers eleven times. Twice in the broom closet. Five times in boy's bathroom, twice in girl's bathroom." Lauren felt compelled to list all confinements. "And it's my first at Sacred Heart. Kids in my other school were responsible for the rest."

The other girl cringed and folded her arms. Lauren didn't know what to make of the posture – it didn't seem aggressive, but other than that she wasn't sure what it did mean. She wished for the nth time she could read people better.

Finally, the older girl spoke again. "Wait, first you said you were put in lockers eight times, then eleven. What gives?"

Lauren let out an exasperated sigh. Why were other kids all so imprecise? "Your first question was 'how many lockers', and second 'how many times'." She explained. Seeing confusion on the other girl, she continued, "I've been put in some lockers more than once."

The other girl shifted postures again. "What, you are not going to list how many times you were staffed in each locker, and the number of each locker? Do you know what a square root of 17 is? Or, like what's three billion squared?"

Lauren was sure the other girl was laughing at her again, and here she thought she was actually making a connection. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She bit back the tears. She will not give the other girl the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

"I'm not a savant. But I was an idiot to think you were anything but a bully, like your friends." She stepped around the other girl, this time unimpeded, grabbed her backpack and run towards her classroom.

She pulled the door open and stood waiting to be acknowledged by the teacher.

The teacher looked at the clock above the door, than at Lauren. "Lauren, you are 20 minutes late."

Before she could answer, Laurent felt someone standing behind her in the threshold to the classroom.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Walters, this was my fault." Lauren was surprised to hear the voice of the girl she just ran away from. "I felt dizzy because I missed lunch, and I asked Lauren here to fetch me some water and a protein bar from my locker," the girl lied smoothly for both of them. "I didn't realize how much time had passed."

The teacher seemed to have bought the lie. "Bo, do you need to go to the nurse's office?" she asked the other girl kindly.

The girl, Bo, shook her head no. "No, all better now, Mrs. Walters."

Lauren felt uncomfortable with the lie, but didn't want to get in trouble over this, or get the other girl in trouble. "Mrs. Walters, may I take my seat?" she asked the teacher, happy that the other girl had inadvertently provided her with both the teacher's name and her own. Lauren was horrible with names.

"Yes, Lauren, you may. Bo, you too." Mrs. Walters allowed without further argument.

Laurent settled at her desk, next to the boy whose name she also didn't remembered either. Bo went to hers, further back, and Lauren thought she could feel the other girl's eyes on her until the end of the period. When the bell rang, the students rushed out, this being the last period for most. Lauren took longer, as usual carefully putting away her notebook and pen into the bulging bag. She still had one more class – Civics – to attend. When she stepped out of the classroom, she saw the girl, Bo, waiting.

"Lauren, hey!"

Lauren didn't acknowledge her or slowed down. Her next classroom was just around the corner, and with all the students shuffling around on the way to their lockers, she thought she would be able to reach it unmolested. She was relieved to see that Bo didn't follow her in. The next hour passed uneventfully, and no one bothered her as she left the school that day.

Day 4 at Sacred Heart high school was Lauren's worst one by far. She sighed and focused on what was ahead. This was not pleasant, but survivable. She was going to be OK. Eventually. Perhaps.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Wow! Reviews already! Thank you everyone for reading and commenting. I must say I'm surprised (pleasantly, of course), considering the hour. Either you all live in Australia (G'Day Mates!) or, like me, you are choosing to stay awake this Saturday night for reasons unknown. So, to answer some readers' comments – the story is a slow burn, Lauren and Bo will eventually matriculate from high school and Docubuss is the endgame. **

Lauren glanced at her Friday course list one more time as she stepped off the bus: English II, Geography, PE, Art, French I. None were her favorite, but her homework was done, and she wasn't one for skipping class, regardless. Even PE, which she knew would be the most difficult of all.

After the second period, Lauren walked to gym locker rooms with some trepidation. At 13 years old, she was about two years younger than an average high school freshman, so she'd likely be the smallest. The counselor assured her that she would be able to pass the requirements, even if she was smaller than most. PE was one of the classes that rewarded trying, and the teacher would know she's younger and take it easy on her, he promised Lauren. Lauren was personally more concerned with the attitude of the other students than getting a good grade in this class. The kids would have an easy excuse to knock her down – emotionally and physically. Especially if they saw her get preferential treatment from the teacher.

This was their first PE class of the semester, and the teacher wanted to evaluate the physical shape of each student. So, after tacking attendance, he brought them outside and to the track that ran around the soccer field and told them to run. Lauren was relieved. She wasn't bad at running, and she knew that while she couldn't lead the pack, she wouldn't come in last, either.

The soccer field they were circling was occupied by a girls' team. Lauren watched them idly as she ran in the just behind the lead group of her classmates. The players on the soccer team looked like mostly seniors, and Lauren swallowed hard thinking that some of the girls from yesterday's incident may be on the field now. Most were too far for her to see their faces clearly, and besides, with coaches around they were not going to bother her.

The period ended and Lauren returned to the locker room to change. She was grabbing her backpack from the gym locker when she heard the soccer team enter the room and settle in the far corner. She froze when she saw one of the girls who 'helped' to into the locker the other day leave the group and head towards her, but she was stopped by her teammate who had her back to Lauren before she could reach her. The new girl said something to her teammate, which made them both laugh, then put her arm around the girl's shoulder and redirected her away from Lauren and back to where the rest of the team was noisily changing out of their soccer gear. Just as they rejoined the group, the girl who had interfered had turned and looked back a where Lauren was still standing, immobilized. When Bo's eyes met Lauren's, the older girl gave her a quick nod before turning back to her friends.

Not one to waste an opportunity, Lauren hastened to make her escape. She didn't see Bo until the end of her last period, when most kids were eagerly leaving the school grounds to start their weekend. She was surprised to see Bo by herself, lingering not far from Lauren's locker. Bo didn't seem like the kind of girl who spent much time not surrounded by friends.

"Hey Lauren." The older girl greeted her when Lauren opened her locker. Lauren nodded hello, but didn't otherwise respond, still weary of what may be on Bo's mind.

Bo was chewing on her lip. Lauren though she looked a little frustrated.

"Look, I'm sorry about being an ass the other day. Can we start over?"

Lauren looked up at Bo and shrugged, still silent.

"I'm Bo, by the way." The girl stuck her hand out towards Lauren. A gesture like that would be rude to ignore, even if the older girl had an agenda and was going to try to embarrass Lauren again.

"I'm Lauren." She shook the proffered hand briefly, but firmly. "Thank you, for earlier, at the gym. And yesterday, with English lit."

"Don't mention it. Wine under the bridge and all that." Bo leaned against a locker next to Lauren's and gave no indication of wanting to leave.

"Water," Lauren corrected automatically, then cringed internally. She had a habit of doing that, and it was rarely appreciated. Try never. But Bo didn't seem to mind.

"Wine is better, under the bridge and otherwise," she smirked. "Don't you think?"

"I wouldn't know. Have you had wine?" Lauren was curious why the other girl was still talking to her, but it felt nice to talk to someone close to her age, so she didn't rush to leave.

"Yeah, I've had lots of things – wine, beer, cider, whisky, tequila, bailey's…" Bo recounted.

"Are you allowed?" Lauren felt mildly impressed, and a tad jealous.

"My grandfather is a bar owner. I've practically grown up in a bar."

"Do your parents work at a bar, too?" Lauren wanted to know, but she saw a shadow cross the older girl's face at the mention of the parents.

Bo fidgeted with her own backpack, and for a second it looked like she was just going to turn around a leave, but she didn't.

"I'll tell you about that some other time. So, how old are you, anyway?" It was obvious Bo was eager to change the subject and Lauren didn't mind, as long as she stayed.

"Thirteen. You?"

"I'm eighteen" Bo answered. "You are a little young for a freshman. What gives?"

"I'm not technically a freshman. It's complicated. I'll tell you about that some other time." Lauren too didn't trust the other girl to open up completely this soon, and she could see from Bo's expression that repeating the older girl's earlier words was just as frustrating on her as it was for Lauren.

"Fair enough." This time Bo did pick up her backpack and swung it around her shoulder. "I'll see you next week, Lauren. Cheri-o." The last was said as she turned and headed toward the exit.

Lauren didn't know what Cheri-o meant, or even if she heard correctly, but older girl's retreating back told her all she needed to know. "Have a good weekend, Bo. Bye." Bo surprised her again when she turned back around and gave Lauren a little parting wave before disappearing down the hallway. Lauren gathered her own things and trailed out after Bo, careful to keep enough distance between herself and the other girl as not to seem like she was following her.

When Lauren walked down the steps of the building that housed her school, she saw Bo get into an old convertible, driven by a boy with curly blond hair, just a few shades darker than Lauren's. She watched as he kissed Bo, the older girl's long dark brown hair getting blown every which way by the early autumn wind and obscuring most of kiss from Lauren. The pair drove off after that kiss, neither giving Lauren a parting glance.

Lauren adjusted her bag and trotted towards the waiting bus. She had a lot on her mind, least of all her school homework.


	3. Chapter 3

It was Tuesday before Lauren saw Bo again, it seemed the only class they had together was English Lit. The teacher was writing "Pop Quiz - Pride and Prejudice Ch. 1-10" on the board when Lauren walked in, just ahead of the bell, and saw that Bo was sitting at her desk in place where a boy sat last week. Lauren paused a bit, unsure if she should proceed to her desk of find another, but Bo waved at her and smiled, as if all was as expected.

Lauren got into her seat and looked up at the dark haired girl. "Bo?"

"I hope you don't mind. I traded seats with Kirby, and Mrs. Walters said she OK, too."

"Who's Kirby?" Lauren asked, still unsettled by the change.

"Dude who was sitting here last week," Bo answered and nodded with her head to her own previous seat, close to the back of the class. When Lauren followed where Bo was pointing, she saw her former desk mate, who didn't seem too upset about the change. He looked over and waved at Bo friendly.

"Is he a friend of yours?"

"No, not really. I've seen him here or there before, though. He's a senior too." Bo answered, as if it explained everything.

Something occurred to Lauren, and she hurried to ask another question before Mrs. Walters was done passing out the quiz and would ask everyone to be quiet. "Do you know everyone's names in this class?"

"Sure" Bo answered easily.

"You are really good with people, aren't you?" Lauren asked, but Bo didn't get a chance to answer. Mrs. Walters clapped her hands and told the class they had 15 minutes to complete the pop quiz. Everyone quieted down and bent over the sheet, scribbling away.

When the class was over, Lauren looked over at Bo to see what the older girl would do.

Bo was putting her things away. "You have one more class after this, right?" she asked.

"Yes. Civics. You?"

"Done for the day." Bo smiled at the thought. "How do you think you did on the quiz?"

"Probably not great. The book is kind of boring, so I skipped around some parts and just read the dialog to get the gist of things." Lauren admitted. "Do you like it?"

"Yes, it's terribly romantic. And I love the descriptions of the country side and all the buildings, inside and out. But I'm sure you did great. Anyway, I got to go, see you on Thursday." Bo smiled in parting.

"Bye." Lauren waved at the brunet's retreating back. The parting conversation made her feel great. She even skipped a few times on the way to her last class. She didn't dare think she had found a friend, not after so many bitter disappointments of the past, but she did hope she found a… she struggled to find the right word. A pal? Yes, that felt right. She found a pal in Bo.

xxx

Thursday rolled in, and Lauren was once again running late for the English Lit class she had with Bo, though not so late that she would miss the bell announcing the start of the period, this time. She settled in next to her new pal just as the bell went off. "Hi." She nodded at the older girl and got a nod and a smile in return.

Mrs. Walters was passing out their graded quiz from two days ago, and Lauren craned her neck to see a red A on her deskmate's sheet. Her own B she tried to angle away from Bo, but red pen on the transparent sheet was sure to stand out, no matter what she did. She did her best to pay attention and took copious notes, knowing she would need to make up somehow for her lack of interest in the reading material if she were to get a good grade in this class.

When the class ended, Bo didn't rush off with the rest of their classmates. Instead, she looked at Lauren curiously.

"So, I thought you were some kind of a wunderkind, in high school two years early. Or do you really just don't like Jane Austen?"

Lauren bit her lip, caught wanting to defend her intelligence but weary of why the older girl would choose to bring up.

"I'm really not into this book, and the quiz was harder than I expected." She thought about adding something positive for her new pal, but struggled for right words. "You did well. I'm glad."

"I see the question is still complicated." Bo parried.

Lauren was not surprised that Bo would call her on a 'non-answer' answer. Still, she had little time and a hefty dose of fear from past encounters to keep her from explaining further. "I promise I'll explain later, when there is more time." She gathered her things and was almost to the door when Bo caught up with her.

"I get it. How about this Friday, after school? We could hang out and talk." Bo was saying as she kept pace with Lauren on the way to her next class.

Lauren decided it was time to stop being surprised by the older brunet. After all, nothing in their interactions thus far went as she expected, this invitation to spend time after school included. She felt a little giddy inside, and still a lot afraid. But she wouldn't turn down an offer of more time with the older girl.

"Yes, that sounds great. Friday after class." She smiled and stepped backwards into the classroom where her Civics teacher was already tacking attendance. Lauren realized she didn't hear the bell ring in all this excitement.

"OK. I'll get Dyson to drive us to my gram's tavern. We can hang out there – food is on the house!" Bo said and closed the door at the nod from the teacher.

Lauren remained facing the now closed door, with her back to the class for some unknown time, until the laughter from her classmates and a stern "Sit down, Lauren" from her teacher had brought her out of her trance. Bo had thrown her a parting curve-ball. Or several. Hang out with Dyson? At the tavern? Oh boy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Thank you all for reviews, follows and favorites. They truly do feed the inspiration!**

When the final bell ran out on Friday classes, Lauren exited the building with a hoard of other students, but lingered on the steps, seeing neither Bo nor Dyson. A few minutes later she saw the convertible pull up, top still down, but the boy was alone in the car and Lauren decided to stay where she was, not comfortable with meeting Bo's boyfriend on her own.

When Bo finally did come out, she was surround by a group of boys and girls. Some Lauren recognized as members of the girls' soccer team, others she didn't know, but everyone seemed to orbit around Bo, as if she were a central nexus.

Bo saw the convertible waiting and started to say her goodbyes to her friends, hugging some and high-fiving or fist-bumping the others. A minute later she was running down the steps and into Dyson's open arms. Lauren remained where she was, watching the pair as they were catching up beside the vehicle, uncertain if Bo forgot all about their agreement to spend time at her grandfather's pub that afternoon. Where they wait for her? Should she join the pair now so other kids could see them leaving together? Or forget the whole blasted idea and sneak around the mulling students to get to her bus? A few minutes later most students had cleared off, leaving her exposed on the steps. Lauren cursed her indecisiveness, but in that moment the decision was taken out of her hands. Bo turned and saw her. The older girl waved, and Lauren rushed over to them. "Hi." She greeted, slightly out of breath.

"Hey Lauren. This is Dyson" Bo pointed at the tall, athletic boy with curly blond hair that Lauren saw the other day. "Dyson – Lauren." Lauren nodded her hello and the boy did the same. He was at least a foot and half taller than Lauren, and she had to crane her neck just to make eye contact with him.

"Let's go, I'm starving!" Bo pulled the passenger door open and motioned Lauren to the back seat. They were underway in seconds, the car roaring to life and tearing out of the parking lot, leaving some of the tire thread behind.

They parked in the alley in the part of town Lauren has never been in, and followed Bo as she led them to the building with a massive wooden door and a sign above that read "Dal Riata".

"That's an unusual name" Lauren was compelled to comment, as she sounded out the name, liking how it rolled off her tong even as it sounded foreign to her ears. "Does it mean anything?"

"Well, it depends. When I was little, gramps told me it was a name of Way Station that his grand-father operated back in Ireland. But a few years ago I heard him tell someone that it was a name of a hooker that his father was once in love with, and who may - or may not have - been my gramps' mother." Bo answered cheekily, leading the group to one of the several booths inside. "I'm going to say hi to gramps, be right back," she threw over the shoulder on her way to the bar area.

Lauren was left in the booth alone with Dyson, and both looked at the other wearily, neither starting a conversation until Bo returned a few minutes later, followed by an older gentlemen with kind eyes and an easy smile.

"I'm Fitzpatrick McCorrigan, Bo's grandfather, but please call me Trick." He introduced himself to the pair.

Lauren instantly decided she liked him. "I'm Lauren." She smiled in return.

"Dyson." The boy answered shortly.

Trick handed them the menus and smiled up at the teens. "Holler when you are ready to order, all on the house."

"Thanks gramps!" Bo settled in next to Dyson and across from Lauren, and pushed back the menu Trick left for her. She craved waffles, and wondered if she can talk her grandfather into asking the cook to make her breakfast in the afternoon.

Lauren was perusing the menu, which favored heavily to the Irish dishes. Shepherd's pie caught her attention and she settled the menu back on the table. A minute later Dyson did the same. Trick had come over then, three jars of root beer floats in one hand and a basket with fries in the other. Both Trick and his offerings were greeted with cheers by the hungry teenagers.

"Ready?" he looked at Lauren first and she nodded eagerly.

They called out their orders, Bo batting her eyelashes at Trick with her request for waffles. He laughed and told her that with her fondness for breakfast foods, the cook kept the waffle-maker and pancake batter handy at all hours.

Orders placed, Bo turned to her schoolmates. "Do you two have any classes in common?"

Lauren just shrugged, unsure, but Dyson spoke up. "Yes. Art, on Wednesdays and Fridays." Lauren was not least bit surprised – she hardly paid attention to others in any of her classes.

"Oh yeah? How's that going?" Bo was asking them both.

"I'm doing all right, but Lauren can't draw stick figures" Dyson answered cockily.

"No way!" Bo turned her full attention to Lauren.

"He's right. I'm useless at all artistic expressions. I'm seriously considering dropping this class and finding another elective." Lauren said, pleased to have been asked a direct question, but unhappy to having to reveal and personal failure.

Dyson seemed to have puffed up his chest at being declared a winner of unannounced contest for best art student, Lauren thought.

"Yeah, whatever. You're only good at drawing stuff you see in your comic books. I'm sure if they asked you to draw a vase, it would end up looking like a space gun or something." Bo chuckled.

"You don't think I can convince the teacher that plasma discharge from a ray gun looks just like a rose?" Dyson parried playfully.

"Dyson, you can be very persuasive, when you put your mind to it." Bo purred, looking into the grey eyes of her boyfriend.

Lauren fidgeted in her seat, uncomfortable with the scene in front of her. Trick chose that moment to appear with their orders and must have caught Bo's comment too, because he looked everywhere but at the pair as he placed their dishes in from of them. His eyes finally settled on Lauren.

"Lauren, do you have a boyfriend?" He asked, probably just to be polite.

"No, and it's not likely that I will have one in the future." Lauren answered confidently.

"Why not?" All three asked almost in unison.

Lauren was momentarily taken aback by how surprised they seemed, but, as with anything she said, she had a reason for saying it.

"It's quite likely that I'm going to grow up to be gay." She said matter-of-factly.

"You can't know that. You're what – 13? 14? You've got a bit of growing up to do." Dyson was saying. Lauren wondered if his comments on 'growing up' had to do with emotional maturity, or the fact that her girly bits haven't come in yet. She was narrow-hipped, and flat-chested. Next to Bo's very attractive feminine curves, she knew she looked undeveloped.

"Dyson!" Bo elbowed him in the arm and looked back at Lauren with a bit of an apology.

Trick went from looking mildly uncomfortable to downright anxious, and though he longed to be anywhere but in front of their booth, he couldn't find a good excuse to up and leave.

"13, and while what you are saying is true for some, in my case, my conclusions are based on scientific research." Lauren paused, but no one had anything to say in response to that, so she tried to explain further.

"A few months ago I read an article about a study where participants where shown various sexual images and were tested on their responsiveness, primarily sexual arousal. There are certain hormones that get activated when people are aroused, and their increase in the blood stream can be measured with a simple blood test. I researched this topic and the study quite extensively. The study had an adequate number of participants, had followed all the protocols for control groups; and the article itself was peer reviewed and published in a Journal of Science, a reputable scientific publication. When I looked into how the study was conducted, I realized I should be able to replicate their experiment with me as a test subject."

Lauren's audience was quiet when she finished. Dyson recovered first, having honed in on one particular thing she said.

"Visual aids, you mean porn? Did you watch porn for your study, Lauren?"

"I did at first," she admitted, "but it was kind of too much, so I stopped just after a few minutes. So I went out and got some magazines instead."

"What did you get? Where did you get them?" Dyson wanted to know. Lauren didn't understand why he seemed so interested in the part of her statement that had little effect on the study, but answered nonetheless.

"At the public library in Riverside. They had a good selection - Playboy, Playgirl and Hustler. I took six months' worth of issues of each."

"Are you shitting me? They give out those things at your library?" Dyson was still hung up on the magazines, of all things.

"I researched that, too. Not all public libraries carry subscriptions of all 3 magazines, but if they do, they will give them to you, like any other magazine they carry. The policies are the same."

"No way! You can't buy a pack of smocks or a wine cooler until you are 21, but they give out dirty rags to 13-year-olds?"

"It's true, the policy states that they will not discriminate based on age, among other criteria." Lauren confirmed.

"Oh, I've got to go visit my library!" Dyson lamented.

"They have a large section of books on sexuality, also. You may want to take a gander at Kama Sutra. Lots of pictures in that one."

In a brief silence that followed, Trick finally bestirred himself. "More root beer floats, coming right up!" he exclaimed and hurried off, ignoring the fact that the first round was still largely untouched by either teen.

"So, how did you run the experiment?" Bo finally asked. Dyson seemed interested in that also.

Lauren was happy to answer that question. She loved talking about science. "First, I took a blood sample to get a baseline for various hormones in my system. Then I perused the magazines with illustrations of women in sexually provocative poses for about an hour, stopping to take blood samples every 10 minutes. The next day I repeated the process, starting with a new baseline, but looking at illustrations of men. When I examined my blood samples, I charted the rise of arousal hormones on day one, then compared it to day two. It was clear from the results that I responded more favorably to the women, by a significant margin."

"Wow. A super nerd and a dyke. You should probably keep the last one to yourself while you are at Sacred Heart." Dyson pointed out.

Bo elbowed him in the chest this time. Hard.

"What? I'm not judging," he defended himself to the older girl, "but you know how the kids are. They already give her hell because she's the youngest and the nerdyest. Do you think they'll let up if she comes out, on top of that all?"

"OK, you are probably right." Bo conceded. Neither teen was comfortable continuing with the topic, so they pounced on their meals.

Between bites of her excelled Shepherd's Pie, Lauren tried to restart the conversation. "Dyson, why is there a letter on your jacket?" she asked, pointing at the jacket he wore over his high school uniform jacket.

Dyson looked at her like he couldn't believe she would ask such a question. "I'm on a varsity team."

"Oh, is it…" Lauren tried to find the right adjective. "Challenging?"

"Yeah, dah." Dyson rolled his eyes.

"But you are good at it?" Lauren questioned him further.

"Yeah, kid. I'm very good at it." Dyson stated emphatically. He thought about flexing his muscles for the girls, but decided to wait until he was alone with Bo.

Lauren just smiled. She was feeling awkward, never used to prolonged social interactions, and she was quickly running out of questions to ask. It also bothered her that she didn't seemed to know how to ask the questions which would prompt a more elaborate response. She thought a few minutes of alone time could be good for her.

"Is there a bathroom I can use here?" she directed the next question at Bo. Bo pointed to a door to the side of the bar and Lauren headed out for a few minutes of solitude.

Back at the booth, Dyson was shaking his head. "Why are we hanging out with the little geek, Bo?"

"Why not?" Bo questioned.

Rather than answer her, Dyson decided to change tacks. "Do you think she has a crush on you?"

Bo laughed. "Are you jealous?"

"No!" He pffed, trying to appear confident in his claim on Bo. Lauren was not a rival. She was… strange, and small, and awkward. Not like any of Bo's many friends. So why was the little imp here, with them? He was finally meeting Bo's grandfather, a man who raised her and was the most important person in her life. He wanted to introduce himself as Bo's boyfriend, talk to the older man about something important and make a good impression. Instead, he felt disoriented by the kid who took over the conversation with her science-shmience nonsense and completely derailed his plans.

"Actually," Bo said quietly, contemplatively, "I think she may have a crash on you, all her experiments notwithstanding. She seems really curious about you."

It was Dyson to turn to ask "Are you jealous?"

"That depends. Are you interested?"

"Eww. Gross." Dyson slapped at his face with both arms, as if trying to rub off the thought from his mind. "She's 13. And besides, you know how I always tell you that you look hot in your school uniform?" Bo nodded, curious where he was going with this. "Well," Dyson continued, "Lauren in the same uniform looks like a boy in a wig, in drag!"

Bo laughed at his antics. "No, she doesn't." She stopped to think about what she wanted to say next. "She's just really different than anyone else at school, you know?" She lamented. "It's like the first time you try the caramel truffle with sea salt. It's different, and maybe not very tasty, but kinda intriguing, don't you think?"

Dyson was saved from having to answer by Lauren's return to the booth. She had thought of several more questions to ask that she hoped would produce a conversation, and she was eager to try them out.

"So, which majors will you be applying for when you start college?" She asked both seniors.

"I'm going to apply to a police academy" Dyson answered first.

"I don't know if I want to go to college," Bo admitted. "I want to travel a bit after high school, and afterwards maybe come help out Trick with the bar. But I bet you know what you want to major in, even if it's still a bit far off for you, isn't it?" She asked Lauren.

"Chemistry, Genetics and Biology." The younger girl answered immediately. "And I'm already in college."

"Wait, what?" Asked Bo.

"How?" Dyson piped in.

Lauren wasn't happy to have the conversation turn back to her so quickly, even though she was able to get a few tidbits of information about both her companions beforehand.

"Like everybody else, I guess. I took the standardized tests, applied, and was admitted" she answered.

"Whoa, Betsy. Slow down and start at the beginning." Bo requested.

"I took the SAT…" Lauren said, not sure what was being asked. "Who's Betsy?"

"The cow. Who cares?" Bo dismissed the silly question. "How'd you do on the SATs?"

"I got 760 for math, which was 97th percentile, 580 in critical reading, which was 75th percentile, and I kind of bombed writing – I got 410, I think it was 40th percentile."

"What is that percentile thing?" Asked Dyson.

"It shows what percentage of other test takers did worse than you. So 75th percentile means that 75 percent of others who took the test scored lower than you."

"Wow, bragging much?" Dyson was definitely getting jealous now.

"No," Lauren hang her head. She wanted these people to like her, damn it. Why did she have to ask about colleges? "Just answering the question asked."

"Hey, kid, come on, that's nothing to be embarrassed about." Bo tried to comfort the younger girl. "So, you were accepted to college. Why are you still in high school?"

Lauren started fidgeting with her napkin. "I'm good at some things – like math and science. I look at equations or chemical formulas and they just make sense. But other stuff is really hard. You saw my English Lit quiz results. I work really hard, but it isn't enough, especially with college level classes…"

Bo leaned forward, silently encouraging Lauren to continue.

"I was admitted in the spring. I was so excited that didn't want to wait until fall and registered for the summer quarter. Good thing too. I signed up for Math, Chemistry, Biology and English 101. I flunked English, but aced everything else." Lauren could feel her eyes water, and fought to keep the tears from falling. "My English teacher went to talk to the dean with me and we found a program where I would continue to take my science classes at the U, but will take all the social science and humanities at a High School. I would have to take all the required humanities at the U at some point again to get my college degree, but I can wait to do it until later. So then I needed to find a school that would agree to work with me and the university, and that's how I ended up at Sacred Heart. They needed someone who can represent them at the annual science fair. They think I can get them a top 10 placement, and in return I get free tuition and high school credit for the science classes I take at the U. Also, they are a private school, so they don't have some of the restrictions that public schools are forced to operate under, and they agreed to admit me and load up my schedule just with the right kind of classes for me." Lauren looked at her two companions for any hints of how they were tacking her story.

Both seemed to be mulling over what they just heard. Bo spoke up first again.  
"So, you are good at sciency things, but you don't have like a photographic memory or something like that?"

Lauren shook her head. "Unfortunately, I don't have eidetic memory or any other cognitive super abilities."

Dyson leaned forward and started interrogating the younger teen like the cops on TV did.

"So you can't recite a book from memory?"

"No."

"Can you multiply 10 digit numbers in your head?"

"No."

"Do you know how many tiles are in the floor of the bathroom?"

"No. Those are things that some savants and some autistics are capable for, but I'm neither."

"X-ray vision? Telekinesis? Telepathy? Invisibility? Precognition?"

"No…" Lauren drawled, unsure if Dyson was being facetious.

"Well, that's too bad. I thought we finally discovered the first mutant." Dyson leaned back into the booth cushions, clearly disappointed.

"Well, I still think you have amazing skills, even if they don't match those in Dyson's comic books." Bo said and gave her boyfriend a stink eye.

"Thanks" Lauren could tell she was blushing.

"So, if you don't have any special skills, I bet you have a ton of homework to do. How's about we take you home, kiddo?" Dyson offered.

"Yes, thank you." Lauren did have a lot of homework, but she was sad to end the evening with the two older teens. It was uncomfortable at times, but it was still fun.

They got up and waved at Trick. He ambled over and said his good byes to each teen, reminding Bo about getting home by midnight and inviting the other two to come back anytime. He did not mention the second round of root beers he never brought to the table.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N. Short chapter for you guys, and I'm only posting it because I want to respond to some reviews I've been getting and this is my vehicle. **

**I've gotten some questions about Lauren's age and potential for any relationship with Bo given that and their age difference. I understand it's because the description for this fic talks about the characters being in high school and nothing else. But the story I have planned in my head only starts in high school (because I think Lauren would have been such an adorable little nerd), but it won't end there. Everyone is going to grow up in later chapters. Let me assure you, Lauren will not be engaging in sexual activity until she's an adult in my story. Thank you all for reviews!**

The following week Bo and Lauren had only seen each other during their one shared period. On Thursday, after their class, Bo watched as Lauren fished a muffin out of her massive back pack. Lauren caught her looking.

"Do you want one? I have several, my Aunt Ashley backed them just last night." She extended the one she was holding to Bo.

"Sure, thanks, it looks delish." Bo bit into the backed goodness and moaned her appreciation. Lauren smiled at the older girl's obvious enjoyment and dug up another muffin for herself.

"Is this why I never see you in the cafeteria at lunch?" Bo pointed to the home packed bag of food.

"Yes." Lauren shrugged. "I usually go into one of the empty classrooms to do my homework during lunch. It's too noisy in cafeteria."

"Well, I get that, but it's good to socialize from time to time, too. Why don't you meet me in the cafeteria tomorrow? I can introduce you to a few cool kids I know."

Lauren thought about it, and decided that as long as Bo was there, she wouldn't mind spending her lunch at the cafeteria this once. "Yeah, OK. I'll see you there tomorrow," she said and rushed off to her next class.

The next day, she entered the school cafeteria just minutes after the start of lunch break and grabbed a tray with sandwich and fries. She quickly scanned through the clusters of people, knowing that Bo was unlikely to sit by herself, and spotted her at a table with several other kids, some of whom seemed closer to her own age. Putting on a smile she made her way over.

"Hi," she greeted the group shyly.

"Hey Lauren! Glad you made it." Bo patted the bench next to herself and Lauren gratefully squeezed in between her friend and another girl.

Bo went around doing introductions. Several older girls were Bo's soccer teammates, one boy – Hale - was in the Chess club, and Lauren had to admit she never learned to play chess; several girls Lauren's age – Ciara and Nadia - were in the Book club, and another older boy – Lachlan - was on the Debate team. Bo would tell a short story or an anecdote about each person she introduced, and they all seemed terribly interesting, though Lauren struggled to remember their names. And when it was Lauren's turn, the blond girl was quite overwhelmed to be introduced as the 'smarty pants' who aced college applications and would likely grow up to be the next 'mad scientist'. Both flattered and embarrassed, Lauren sat looking at her food, missing the mixed expressions of her table companions.

Bo was just as oblivious to the looks Lauren was getting – she was watching Dyson as he walked over to their table with a bulging duffle bag. He looked around to make sure no teachers were in sight before opening the bag and showing Bo two shiny motorcycle helmets nested there.

"My dad is out of town, or he'd skin me alive for tacking his prized Ducati out for a ride." He said to the group at large, then turned to Bo. "This is your one chance, Bo. Are you in?"

"Are you kidding me? Heck yeah!" Bo nearly squealed in excitement as she sprang to her feet. "Catch you all later!"

Lauren looked around the table. As soon as Bo left, she felt adrift in the sea of strangers. With them but not of them. She could feel her heartbeat rising in tandem with a panicky feeling in her gut. Unbidden, gloomy thoughts swirled in her mind.

She listened with half an ear as other kids started talking excitedly about the motorcycle Dyson mentioned, the conversation gradually shifting and morphing to include other fancy things. Lauren had realized some time ago that most of the kids in this private school were from well-to-do families, but it never bothered her. The school insisted that all students wear a uniform, and that helped obscure the rich from the rest to some degree. There was nothing Lauren could do about her department store bought backpack and shoes. All that mattered to her was that her tuition was free, but she wondered how Bo was paying for this prestigious school, knowing she was being raised by her grandfather alone.

After a few minutes, the kids at the table started to splinter into smaller conversation groups. One of the soccer players – Clio –turned to her teammates to talk about a cute boy who asked to copy her French homework earlier in the day. Hale - the boy from Chess club – was talking to Ciara about Bobby Fischer's biography. Lachlan and Nadia were deep in the debate about pros and cons of attending gender-segregated schools, all chatting amicably, none paying attention to Lauren.

Lauren sat listening to them a while longer, thinking it's best to wait to enter the conversation when she had something to contribute. As luck would have it, just a few minutes later another soccer player lamented on her obsession with pizza.

"I loooove dip dish! Like I can't get enough of it - the crust, the cheese, oh my god, it's my favorite thing evah!" she gushed. "And, like, I know I shouldn't be eating it, the couch would make me do a hundred updowns if she found out! God, I hope she never finds out! But I just can't stop. Why does it have to taste so effing good?"

Lauren thought it was an excellent time to jump in and share a bit of cool information with her tablemates.

"Pizza, or any other high-glycemic carbohydrates, can cause mood altering effects. For example - making you feel good - by increasing serotonin synthesis in the brain. Consuming high-glycemic carbohydrates results in high blood sugar and this stimulates the release of insulin from the pancreas gland. Insulin regulates the amino acid uptake – resulting in a higher tryptophan blood concentrations. Tryptophan is an amino acid that's found in foods like turkey, eggs and chees, and is the precursor to serotonin synthesis. So, the intake of carbohydrates and especially sweets and simple sugars, increases insulin levels, which allows more tryptophan to enter into the brain where it can be used to make serotonin – the effects of which are mood altering."

The girls she spoke to all stared at Lauren unkindly, not pleased to have their conversation interrupted.

"Is this how you're paying your Sacred Heart tuition, egghead? By giving guest lectures on carbohydrates?" Clio's saccharine smile was making Lauren's teeth ache. "Can I get your autograph?"

She made a hand gesture as if to hand something to Lauren, but the back of her hand hit the bowl of milk and cereal she'd been eating, propelling its contents across the table, as if by accident.

Lauren watched as milk and soggy cornflakes landed on her chest and dribbled down the front of her uniform.

"Jeez, Lauren, you know so much about food, but you're so skinny. Is it because you can't afford it? You poor thing, let me give you some of mine" another girl from the soccer team, whose name Lauren didn't recall at all, picked up her half-finished tuna melt and flicked it in Lauren's direction. It hit Lauren right where the cereal had landed just a moment earlier and left an oily smear on her uniform before sliding wetly onto the table.

Others had laughed, a few adding their own barbs or bits of food. Kids from adjutant tables saw the food being thrown and it didn't take long for someone to shout "Food fight!" and less time yet for others to get in the game.

Lauren felt unfamiliar mental sluggishness, likely brought up by acute embracement and a desire to disassociate from what was happening to her. But there was something important there that she needed to grasp, so she remained at the table while her brain processed the last few minutes. With a jolt, she locked eyes with Lachlan. He looked back at her – one of the few seemingly unaffected by all the ruckus and flying food around them.

She mouthed "Thank you" and he nodded back. She looked around to see that no one was paying any attention to her whatsoever, grabbed her things and made for the nearest bathroom, knowing she wouldn't be the only one trying to scrub food off her uniform in the sink or sit through the remaining classes with wet patches and stains on her. She didn't know why, but Lachlan had saved her when he yelled food fight.

**Author's Note #2: I'm not a scientist, so when my Lauren needs to say something smart, I turn to the internet in search of what real scientists do say, and copy their words. I'm going to cite the sources in the notes to give credit to the author. **

**Lauren's nerdy lecture on carbs is lifted from Dr. Michael Sardon's blog: blog/2009/11/15/carbohydrates-feel-good-foods-why**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Thank you all for reviews, I read them all! Some of your notes lead me to try to clarify points from previous chapters. Tamicia02 – I hope I've addressed your comment about the motorcycle. Kyoshiob69 – I hope you get what you asked for in this chapter ****J**

**Author's Note #2: Warning: don't read right before, during, or right after eating. **

When Lauren's aunt Ashley returned home that evening, the cozy townhome they rented in the suburbs was dark and quiet. She poked her head in the kitchen, unsurprised to see several more muffins missing from the serving tray since she packed Lauren's lunch in the morning, but no signs that dinner was eaten. She came up the stairs to the second floor where both bedrooms were located, separated by a small loft that served as the office for them both. She knocked softly on the door to Lauren's room before entering.

Lauren was lying in her bed, her 'Pinky and The Brain'-print comforter pulled up over her head.

"Lauren, are you awake, sweetheart?" she whispered, bending over the teen.

A few moments later the bundle shifted and a tear-stricken face poked out.

"Oh, munchkin, are they teasing you at school again?" Ashley sat on Lauren's bed and wrapped the teen in a hug. "I thought things were better this year, with this girl – Bo was it? – looking after you?"

"When she's there…" Lauren shrugged.

"What happened today?"

Lauren shifted, trying to sit up, and extricated herself from the hug, but not moving away from her aunt's comforting presence.

"Nothing unusual." She answered, and Ashley decided not to press for details.

They were quiet for a while, just sitting side by side, both lost in thought, until Lauren looked up at her aunt. "Aunt Ash, is it OK if I spend some time at the chem lab at the U this weekend? I have a project I need to work on."

"Sure, munchkin. I need to spend some time at work this weekend as well – we are starting cell division on Monday, and I need to see how many of our microscopes are still working, and if there is anything I can do to fix the rest."

"Did they approve your request for parts?" Lauren asked, knowing her aunt, who taught Chemistry and Biology at a public high school, sent monthly requisitions to the principle for various tools a science teacher would need to make an effective lesson.

Ashley laughed. "No, and I can't blame them. This is a third year in a row their budget got cut. So it's back to cannibalizing old equipment for any available parts for me. Wish me luck."

"You don't need luck. You are brilliant, aunt Ash."

"Thank you, munchkin." Ashley kissed the teen in the temple. Or, rather, temple is what she aimed for, anyway.

"Ow, ew, not the ear again, aunt Ash" Lauren wined, wiping at the imaginary moisture on her ear.

Ashley just chucked. "Sorry, kiddo." She got up to get started on dinner, but stopped at the threshold. "Are we're still on for backing cookies Sunday night?"

Lauren seemed to consider the question, even though backing on Sunday nights was a tradition in their home. "That's actually… yeah, that'll work. Can we do chocolate chip raisin?"

"Sure, honey, I'll get raisins at the store tomorrow." Her aunt agreed, predictably.

"No, it's OK, I'll pick them up myself. There are few other things I want anyway." Lauren was quick to intercede.

"OK by me. Dinner will be ready in 10." Ashley said and went back downstairs, happy that her niece seemed much happier when she left the girl's room than when she came in.

That weekend went by faster than most and provided few opportunities for rest, so by midmorning on Monday Lauren wanted more than anything to find a quiet space for a short nap. But that would need to wait until after she got home. When the bell for lunch break went off, she hurried to her locker. She opened it and extracted a hermetically sealed container with a large batch of cookies she baked with Ashley the night before.

She watched as kids darted around their lockers, some dropping off their book bags before going off to the cafeteria, others grabbing lunch bags. She spotted one of the girls from Bo's soccer team approaching just moments later and was both elated and anxious to recognize her.

She pulled the lid off the container and a sweet smell of freshly baked cookies invaded the hallway in seconds. Lauren watched as Clio made a beeline to where she stood in front of her locker.

"Ah, nerdypants, what have you got there?" Clio greeted the younger teen, grabbing the container and pulling it out of Lauren's hands with little effort. She took a long whiff of the cookies and a dissolved into a semi-orgasmic smile. "Thanks, shithead. Bring stuff like that in every day this week and maybe we'll let you sit with us again next Friday." She told Lauren and marched off to the cafeteria.

Lauren took a few deep breaths before extracting her lunch bag from the locker and following the older girl. Once inside, she quickly spotted the table where Clio, Bo and the soccer team were holding court, then found a still empty table across the room and headed there. She took a seat that afforded her a good view of Bo's table and dug into her lunch. A few minutes later, so saw a shadow looming over her and looked up to see two girls from book club she met last week flanking her from both sides.

"Mind if we join you?" one of them - a blond about Lauren's size – asked politely.

Confused, but not overly alarmed, Lauren nodded her OK at the older girls. They sat in silence for a few moments, the two newcomers sitting together and throwing furtive looks at each other, until the taller of the two – a brunette with chocolate skin and gorgeous long curly hair – cleared her throat and looked straight at Lauren.

"Sorry about the other day… you know…" She trailed off to see if Lauren would say something. Lauren remained silent, but seemed amenable to the topic, so she went on. "Bo sometimes hangs out with my cousin, Hale. You met him." Lauren nodded, having recognized the name of the boy from Chess club she was introduced to on Friday. "And she asked if we'd come sit at their table and meet a friend of hers. Bo's OK, but you know how the rest of the girls on that team are. We thought it's better to do as she asked." She stopped again, looking for some kind of reaction from Lauren.

Lauren stole a long glance to the table where Bo and her teammates were eating lunch. She saw them chatting amicably. Her container of cookies sat in the middle of the table, nearly empty. It seemed that Clio was happy to share her ill-gotten gains with her friends.

She forced herself to look away, knowing her two companions have noticed her staring. "So, Hale's your cousin?" Lauren asked, not ready to talk about Bo or her feelings on what transpired at her table last week. "How do you guys know Lochin?

"Do you mean Lachlan?" the brunet asked, smiling.

"Sorry, I'm horrible with names." Lauren admitted, embarrassed.

"It's OK, they are kind of weird names." The blond girl answered. "I'm Ciara. And this is Nadia." She pointed at herself, then at her brunette friend. "And Lachlan is Nadia's boyfriend."

"Thanks. I'm Lauren." Lauren smiled, grateful for re-introductions.

"We just wanted to let you know we are sorry about what happened, and you can always come sit with us during lunch." Ciara continued. "We are sort of like Four Musketeers."

Lauren had laughed. "Wait, I want to guess who's who." The older girls had nodded and Lauren chewed on her fork for a second before announcing. "Lachlan is Athos. He has that 'tormented soul' look about him."

"Yes!" Ciara and Nadia exclaimed in unison. "Good job, keep going."

"Hale is Porthos. I'm just going by his outfit there, he's a bit of a dandy." Hearing the girls squeal, Lauren assumed she guessed correctly yet again.

"Ciara is Aramis and Nadia is d'Artagnan." She concluded.

Both girls were astounded. "How did you do that?" Ciara asked, in awe.

"Just a guess. You are wearing a beautiful Gaelic cross," Lauren pointed at the ornament on Ciara's neck, "and I remember Aramis was very religious. And Nadia… I guess by process of elimination."

"Also, I'm the most dashing and fearless of the bunch!" Brunette announced with gusto.

"Sure, that too." Lauren found herself blushing a bit at the thought.

Nadia was so very different than Bo, both physically and even more so temperamentally, Lauren decided. Bo was outgoing and charismatic, loud and boisterous to the point when at times she seemed uncouth. She was friends with and liked by nearly everybody who met her. Nadia was refined, quiet, reserved, almost shy in comparison. That she would find them both attractive was not surprising. That she would find herself attracted to both… that Lauren didn't understand.

She realized that she spaced out on the conversation when a single word pulled her out. One of the girls had mentioned Dyson and both laughed.

"Sorry, what was it about Dyson?" She inquired from two friends, looking at each girl in turn.

"Oh, I was just making fun of Ciara. She has an itty-bitty crush on that boy." Nadia laughed, bumping shoulders with her friend.

"I do not!" Ciara huffed, folding her arms and looking slightly petulant.

"Do to! You have memorized his class scheduled and," Nadia paused for empathies, "I saw how you looked at him and Bo when he came in on Friday with those motorcycle helmets in tow. You were sooo jealous!"

"You would be too if you knew anything about motorcycles, Nadia. His father never lets him take that bike, and it's the first time in like 5 years since he left town on business. Dyson may not get another chance to sneak it out this decade!" Ciara defended herself.

"And you know all this how?" Asked Nadia.

"I hear things. I have a locker not far from his."

"Yes, your locker is so close to his because you traded with Hale for five English Lit book reports and two essays each for History and Civics. I rest my case." Nadia finished her argument by slapping her hand on the blond girl's back.

"Fine, I have a crush on Dyson AND on his father's motorcycle." Ciara grumbled.

"It doesn't bother you that Dyson is with Bo?" asked Lauren.

"'Let no one who loves be called altogether unhappy. Even love unreturned has its rainbow.'" Ciara replied.

It seemed she was quoting someone, but before Lauren could ask about it, she was distracted by a commotion coming from Bo's lunch table.

There were shrieks as first one, then two girls jumped up from their seats and proceeded to vomit noisily. Whatever befell them must have come on suddenly and urgently, because neither had time to move very far. One of the girls had a chance to turn away from the table, but another did not, and her vomit was now covering her teammate seated across from her. The other girls had started to scramble away, but one by one they each succumbed – either because of all the retching right at their elbow or due to their own affliction.

Like spit take Lauren had seen on late-night TV comedy shows, they spewed bile that varied in color and chunkiness all over the place. One unfortunate girl had expulsions coming out of her mouth and nose. No one seemed to care any longer which way they were facing, as all of them were projectile-vomiting what was today's lunch (and, based on the amount of expelled material, likely all of yesterday's meals too,) in every direction, soaking their table, each other, and a few unlucky kids from neighboring tables.

Kids from surrounding tables were clearly gaging, but few were leaving. As if unable to look away, they looked on with combination of fascination and disgust as one girl (Lauren thought she recognized her as Clio) seemed to have spewed in two directions – and from both ends – simultaneously.

"Like a quasar," Lauren thought, or might have said out loud. No one has responded, which was fine by her. It was time to leave, anyway. She stood up and gathered up the remains of her lunch to dump at the nearest trash can. "I think it's time for me to go." She addressed her two companions.

"Right behind you, Lauren. I need fresh air. Now!" Ciara chimed in and all three hastily moved towards the exit.

"Me too. Come find us next time." Nadia told Lauren as they separated in the hallway.

"Will do," Lauren confirmed happily and went in search of an empty classroom to get started on her homework.

A/N: "Let no one who loves be called altogether unhappy. Even love unreturned has its rainbow."

― J.M. Barrie, The Little Minister


	7. Chapter 7

History was usually Lauren's favorite subject at Sacred Heart, but today's lesson was lost on a young blond. She was replaying the scene from the cafeteria from just half hour ago on an endless loop in her mind, with only one thought running through it: _what have I done?_

She made a effort to shake herself out of it. What's done is done, and what she needed now is a way to move forward. But no solutions came to mind. Instead, regret, fear and shame started flooding her system in waves, bringing new, even less cheery thoughts with them. _Should I tell someone I was responsible? What would the girls from the team do to me when they find out? What would the principle do? Will I get expelled? Will I get arrested and sent to jail?_

She felt nausea hit like a fist to the stomach and dashed out of the classroom, one hand covering her mouth, the other squeezing at her midsection. She made it to the bathroom with not a second to spare. When her stomach had stopped violently emptying itself, she bent over the sink to rinse out her mouth and splash cold water on her face. A sudden voice from the corner of the bathroom startled her.

"Didn't think anyone outside of our group was affected. Did you eat something from our table after we all left?" Bo's voice was raspy and tired. She was sitting on the floor in the farthest corner of the bathroom, looking pale and listless.

"Bo, you don't look very good. Are you alight?" Lauren questioned, making a step toward the older teen, but was halted by a hand raised between them.

"Never better. You?" Despite asking for her space, Bo was clearly concerned about the blond teen, and Lauren's heart squeezed painfully at the thought that she was the cause of Bo's suffering and yet on a receiving end of her empathy.

"You don't look OK. Maybe you should go home, Bo. Do you want me to help you up?" Lauren asked, extending her arms out but not coming any closer.

Bo just shook her head no. "No, I think I'll stay here for a bit longer. Did you know they took Clio to the hospital?"

"I heard the ambulance, but I didn't know they took anyone with them." Lauren admitted. She wondered why Bo wanted to stay where she was, and if maybe she should go get a nurse to come here.

"So, how come you're sick, Lauren?" Bo persisted in asking.

Lauren took a deep breath, thinking about ways to answer the question. She probably spent too long thinking, because Bo started speaking again. This time, it seemed she was not so much speaking to Lauren, as thinking out loud.

"It must have been the cookies Clio brought." She muttered, not looking at Lauren. "It was the only thing all of us ate there. Where would she have gotten them? They came in Tupperware container, so they weren't store bought. And Clio doesn't bake. So she would have gotten them from someone else..." She droned on.

"You know, 'gotten' is such a benign word. What she did was 'take'. By force." Lauren hissed, then hastily clamped a hand over her mouth to prevent any more words from coming out.

But it was enough. Enough for Bo to put two and two together. The brunette teen rose to her feet slowly and stepped next to Lauren. She stood towering over the younger girl, bracketing her between herself and the bathroom sink. Her dark brown eyes looked cold and stormy.

"It was you, wasn't it? Did you do this, Lauren?" She demanded.

Lauren nodded, too emotional to speak. Her legs were shacking and her stomach was doing cartwheels.

"Why?" Bo whispered, bewildered.

"Why what?" Lauren hissed back. "Why did she take what didn't belong to her? Or why did I inject the chemical that would cause vomiting into the raisins?"

"Clio is an ass, but it doesn't justify you going all 'revenge of the nerds' on her and our group." Bo shouted back. "Did you want to put all of his in the hospital?"

That effectively sidetracked Lauren's indignation and she visibly deflated, contrite.

"God, no! Bo, I'm sorry about that. I must have put too much in, I never expected a reaction as severe as you were having." She pleaded with the older girl. "I just wanted to get back at her and the others for the other day. Please, you have to believe me I wasn't trying to seriously hurt anyone."

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Lauren." Bo accused. "I thought we were friends. I introduced you around, I took you to meet my gramps. Why didn't you warn me?"

"Why did you eat something that you knew was ill-gained?" Lauren retorted. "You should have known, or at least suspected, that Clio took those cookies away from someone."

Bo's stony face confirmed to Lauren that the older teen knew or suspected as much about Clio.

"You don't get to put on all this on Clio, Lauren. This was a shitty thing to do." Bo turned and headed for the door.

Lauren lunged after her, grabbing the other girl's hand. "Bo, please, wait! I'm sorry! I do want to be your friend. Please forgive me!" She pleaded.

Bo pulled her hand away, sneering. "We are done, Lauren." And walked through the door without turning back.

Lauren stumbled after her, but her feet wouldn't carry her and she sank to her knees, sobbing.

Days passed.

In the wake of her fight with Bo a new normal set in.

Some things were as if she never met Bo.

She was sitting with strangers again in all of her classes - Bo asked to be moved to another desk in the one class they shared. The older kids still bullied her (though Clio had, thankfully, kept her distance). She still felt unnaturally unique in the sea of high school students.

And some things were different – because there was a time when Bo was in Lauren's life.

She had friends now. Nadia, Ciara and Lachlan would invite her to sit with them at lunch, and would always greet her in the hallways. She had people she could talk to, who would treat her like she belonged in their little group. Who would stare down at a kid who threw chalk at her and help her brush it off her uniform. Who would pull a note someone stuck to her back that said "Moo if you see this". Lauren had been walking around with it for several hours, encountering dozens of kids in the hallways, most of who bellowed "mooo!" as they walked past. Bo was one of the few who didn't, but she didn't alert Lauren to the note either.

The other difference was harder for Lauren to describe and to understand. It was despair. It was yarning. It was emptiness. It was grief. It was all for Bo.

Lauren knew she hurt the older girl deeply, and was desperate to re-establish a connection with her, at any cost. She waited for Bo after school, but the older teen walked by her as if she wasn't there. She put notes in her back pack, in her locker, paid another kid to hand them to her, but there was never a response. She came in early one day and snuck into the classroom where Bo had her first period, and wrote "I'm sorry. Please forgive me" on the blackboard, but she wasn't sure if Bo saw the message – if she came into the classroom after the teacher had, the note would have been erased before she could see it.

As a last resort, she begged her aunt to take her to "Dal Riata". It was a weekend, and they came into the tavern just as the lunch crowd had thinned out. Trick was tending bar and Bo was nowhere to be seen. Trick had noticed them, but didn't come out to greet them, so they walked over to him.

Lauren took in the older man's posture and decided he knew what she'd done. She stood in front of him, lost for words. Her aunt spoke to break up the awkward silence that formed.

"Hi, I'm Ashley, Lauren's aunt. And you are Bo's grandfather?" she said, extending a hand to the older man.

Trick didn't hesitate long to shake the woman's hand and return the greeting. "Yes, I'm Trick. Nice to meet you, Ashley." He looked back at Lauren, obviously expecting her to say something.

_If only I knew what to say_, Lauren thought.

Her aunt placed a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder and said the only thing she thought would help.

"When in doubt, start with the most important thing," she whispered, bringing Lauren out of her stupor.

"I'm sorry!" Lauren rushed to say, before she lost her nerve. It felt good to let the words out. She took a calming breath and continued. "I'm sorry I spiked the cookies. I'm sorry I didn't warn Bo about them. I'm sorry I put Bo's teammate in the hospital. I'm sorry I hurt anyone." She implored. But having said that, she struggled to continue.

Trick did not interrupt her, but when she paused for the second time, he lowered his eyes to the counter, making it hard to tell how he was tacking Lauren's apology.

When he did speak, it was a non sequitur. "Are the flowers for me?"

Lauren felt lost for a second, until she remembered a bouquet she held in one hand. In her other hand was a bottle of whiskey. She bought both with her allowance. It made a significant dent in her savings, putting the industrial-grade microscope further out of her reach, but she insisted she should pay for both items at the store.

"No, but this is." She placed the bottle of aged whiskey on the bar next to Trick.

"You do remember I own a tavern," Trick smiled, pointing at the wall of liquor behind him.

"Yes," Lauren replied shyly, "But this one was paid by someone other than you." She indicated the bottle she brought.

"It's good stuff," Trick allowed, picking up the bottle and examining it. "Thank you, Lauren. So the flowers…?" He motioned to the bouquet again, obviously curious.

Lauren looked at the arrangement of wildflowers in her hand. It was bright, boisterous, and untamed, very much like the girl she bought them for.

"It's for Bo. I don't know what kind of flowers she likes, but I thought she might like these. I don't like flowers much, I like cookies. I was going to bake her a cake, I'm good at backing…" Lauren rambled.

"So I've heard" Trick interjected, but looked apologetic for interrupting.

"Yes, obviously it would have been inappropriate at the moment. But I wanted to bring her something."

"Flowers is an odd choice," Trick prodded, hoping for an explanation. But Lauren had no explanation for why she chose to buy the flower arrangement. And there was something that she thought was more important than to look into her motivation for the purchase.

"Do you think I can speak to Bo? Is she here?"

"She is. I'll go ask her." Trick agreed, and walked off to the back of the bar, where a door led to another section, likely offices or a living space. He came back just a few minutes later, his kind eyes telling Lauren her request was denied even before he spoke.

"I'm sorry, Lauren, she didn't want to see you." He said, placing a hand on Lauren's arm, trying to lessen the sting of rejection. He tried to catch Lauren's eyes before reassuring her. "I'll speak to her. Bo is a hot-head. She gets angry easily, but usually doesn't stay mad for long. When she does…" he trailed off. "But she'll see how hard you are trying to get her forgiveness, Lauren, and in the end it will be enough."

Lauren nodded, sniffling. She'll try forever, if that what it took.

"Do you have any advice? How to get her to talk to me?" She pleaded with the older man.

Trick shook his head, "Just be patient. I'm sorry, Lauren, when she gets like this, nothing will get through until she's ready to let it in."

Lauren whipped at the tears streaming down her cheeks and nodded at Bo's grandfather. "I understand. Thank you, Trick." She handed him the flowers and a letter she brought with her. "Would you give her these?"

"Of course, child." Trick smiled at the blond girl and unexpectedly hugged her. When he stepped away, Lauren was crying again, unable to say anything else.

Ashley wrapped her arm around Lauren's shoulders and offered her other hand to Trick.

"We should get going. Thank you for your help, Trick." She smiled, liking the older man and his good nature.

"Nice meeting you, Ashley," Trick responded. "Good luck, Lauren."

Luck was an unknown element, Lauren thought as they were leaving, not one to rely on. But she did have intelligence, drive and patience – three things that, when combined, rarely failed to yield results. She'll get her friend back, they will have a second chance at friendship.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note:**

**I must tell you that this is not the chapter I was going to write when I finished the previous chapter. The chapter I ****_was_**** going to write will come after this one. "Why?" you'll ask. Because of you, readers. I was completely blown away by your reviews to the previous chapter. They were smart, thoughtful, and completely spot on! Can't thank you all enough for taking the time to share your thoughts with me. So this chapter is one big reply to all of you (and one guest reviewer may recognize their comment repeated by Ciara almost verbatim)! You inspire me to write smarter and faster. Love you all!**

Bo opened her locker and saw another note from Lauren attached by a thin string to the slit in the metal surface. It was partially unfurled, and the side that was facing her had "I'm sorry" written on it. She turned it over to confirm a longer note on the other side. She didn't have any intentions of reading this latest message, but it was hard to ignore the 'sorry' staring right at her.

"Clever girl," Bo mumbled, and was surprised to hear a familiar chuckle over her shoulder. She turned around and, sure enough, Dyson was standing right behind her.

"Another note from Lauren?" he inquired carefully, knowing Bo's temper.

"Whatever." Bo grumbled. She pulled the note from the string that held it attached to the locker and crumbled it, but instead of throwing it away, she shoved it into her backpack. She didn't read them, but for reasons she couldn't articulate even to herself, she found herself keeping every one.

"Maybe it's time you let her out of the dog house, Bo." Dyson suggested, noticing her stashing away the note, even if she tried to be stealthy about it.

"Why do you care? I thought you didn't like her."

"I don't," he confessed, "but you've been grouchy ever since you had a fight with her, and I'm ready for it to be over."

"Grouchy?" Bo fixed her boyfriend with a death stare.

"Yep. Grouchy, peevish, cantankerous, cranky, crotchety. All of those, take your pick." Dyson smirked, ignoring the stare.

"Did you swallow a thesaurus? I see the college admission test prep classes are paying off." Bo teased.

"The test is next week, and my dad has been driving me nuts about studying." He kicked the locker in frustration. "_You know one wrong answer could mean the difference between Harvard and University of Alaska, Yukon extension campus_?" He said impersonating his father.

"OK," Bo laughed, "but what about the police academy? When are you going to grow a pair and tell him about that?"

"Look, let's not talk about it now," Dyson cut her off, all good mood evaporated. "Do you have a game tonight?"

"Yes, it's a home game. Will you come?"

"No, have the class tonight for the test prep, sorry. But I'll make it up to you." He promised and pecked her on the lips. He turned to leave, but Bo halted him with a quick word.

"Hey Dyson" She waited a beat before continuing. "How come you never bought me flowers?" she asked when he came back to stand by her.

"Do you like flowers?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"No, not really." Bo admitted.

"Then whey?" Dyson inquired, confused by where this conversation was headed.

"Never mind. I'll see you tomorrow." She dismissed the topic, turning to head to her next class.

"Later!" he called out, but she was already turning the corner and out of range.

x

Lauren was sitting next to Ciara and across from Nadia and Lachlan in the cafeteria, but she wasn't paying much attention to the conversation around her until Ciara elbowed her in the shoulder.

"Earth to Lauren" she repeated an old joke between them.

"Sorry, what'd I miss?" Lauren looked up at her friend, embarrassed for zoning out again.

"Noting important, I just wanted to see if you were still sitting beside me, or were replaced by a holographic image." Ciara smiled at the younger teen.

"Present and accounted for" Lauren smiled back.

"Still no answer from Bo?" Ciara guessed the reason behind Lauren's melancholy. When Lauren nodded, confirming her guess, Ciara huffed in indignation. "How long are you going to be running after her like a puppy? You tried. You made a real effort. If she can't accept that, it's time to move on." She enthused. "I get that she's important to you, but she's not your only friend anymore."

"Ciara, if it wasn't for Bo, I wouldn't be friends with you guys" Lauren tried to explain.

"Bollocks!" Lachlan piped in. "We are friends with you because of who you are, not because Bo introduced us."

"He's right," Nadia chimed in. "Even without Bo we would have met you eventually."

"No, you don't get it." Lauren whined, frustrated her friends didn't understand. She needed them to understand.

"Before I met Bo, I wouldn't have…" she trailed off, unable to explain that she had given up on having friends before meeting Bo. "The last time I had a friend was two years ago. Her name was Mia, we were in the same math and science classes. It started out great, but one day she said she left her math homework at home and asked if she can copy mine. I agreed. Soon, she was forgetting her homework for the science class, and a month later she was sharing a desk with me in both classes, copying my homework, my tests, anything else we were assigned. I didn't even see she was using me. My science teacher pulled me aside and told me that her scores have gone from C- to A+ without any explanation. I still remember how he looked at me. But I didn't care. I had a friend, and if I was able to help her, all the better, right?" Lauren spoke without looking up at her friends, not wanting to see their pity.

"Well, one day I was in the bathroom and I heard her talking to another girl about how she had to put up with an 'insufferable egghead Lewis' to get her grades up, and how she missed her real friends who wouldn't be caught dead anywhere near 'that freak' and avoided her because of me. After that, I gave up trying.

"Bo didn't just introduce me to you guys. She showed me that it's possible for me to have friends.

"The irony if it is, until our fight after she got sick in cafeteria, I didn't think of her as a friend. I wouldn't allow myself to, so I wouldn't be disappointed like with all the others. But she told me she was my friend, and I got it then – that friendship doesn't have to be reciprocated to be real, and that I hurt her far deeper than I realized." Lauren said, digging her nails into the palms of her hand, remembering that wretched day.

"I have to get her to forgive me, and to make amends, even she doesn't want to be friends from now on. The first schoolmate who was nice to me in a very long time, and I pay her back by making her sick in front of everyone. I can't let it end like that."

She was feeling emotional, and thought it was better to not dissolve into tears in front of everyone, but couldn't find the excuse to leave. She was saved by the bell, literally, when it announced the end of the lunch period.

They all got up, and Ciara grabbed Lauren's hand before she could run off.

"Want to go to the movies today?" She asked the group.

"Sure!" Nadia and Lachlan answered eagerly.

But Lauren hesitated. "I have chemistry lab at the U after school, and it's a school night." She tried to beg off.

"Oh Lauren, live a little. We'll go after your lab. Meet us outside at seven." Nadia insisted, and Lauren found herself unable to decline.

Later that evening Lauren got off the bus and saw her friends waiting in the car at the school entrance. She ran up to them, knowing she was a bit late. But before she could apologize, Lachlan pointed at her back pack "Do you have a mini lab in that thing? How are you even standing with this thing on?"

"You get used to it," Lauren answered, "But you are right, I do have a microscope and a few odds and ends in there. Maybe I can leave it in my locker, if you guys don't mind waiting a few more minutes" she inquired from the group.

"Sure, Lauren, we have time. Go rid yourself of this monstrosity." Ciara said from behind the wheel.

Lauren took off up the stairs to the school entrance as fast as her admittedly heavy backpack would allow. She was just spinning the dial on her locker when she heard voices coming towards her, then turned to see the soccer team was streaming out of the gym showers. They looked unhappy, and most seemed in the hurry to leave the building and head home. But Clio saw Lauren standing alone and made her way towards the blond.

Lauren hesitated. Clio was her nemesis, but she had mostly ignored Lauren since the incident, and surly she knew who was responsible. So maybe this would be an opportunity to apologize to the older teenager about getting her so sick she ended up hospitalized.

Too late she recognized the look in the other girl's eyes. Trouble was coming and Lauren had nowhere to go.

"What luck to run into you, Lauren. And without any witnesses!" Clio cackled, grabbing Lauren by the front of her uniform and dragging her down the hallway. Lauren's legs barely touched the ground as she was pulled away by a much stronger, much taller teen. They stopped at Clio's locker, and she wrenched it open, rooting inside one-handed until she came up with a plastic bag. Inside was a brown clump that smelled like peanut butter.

"Since you were so kind to share your cookies with me, I thought I'd return a favor with a peanut butter sandwich. Pity I don't have any bread, but I wasn't planning on running into you today, so you'll just have to eat it as is."

There was likely rat poison, or something equally unsavory in the clump, Lauren knew, and she tried to break free, but she couldn't dislodge the arm pressing her against a locker. "Open wide, Lauren. Say 'Aaaa'" Clio insisted, waving the hand with clump inches from Lauren's face.

Lauren clenched shut her teeth and lips, and then her eyes for good measure.

One hand still wrapped in Lauren's shirt, Clio had no chance of forcing Lauren's mouth to open, so she let go and instead slammed her body against the younger teen to hold her immobile against the locker. The loud bang from the force of the contact echoed around the empty hallway.

Both hands now free, Clio grabbed Lauren's nose and squeezed the nostrils shut. Lauren felt the pressure building and knew it would only be seconds until she was forced to open her mouth to take in air. She didn't want to think about what would happen next.

Surely, not being shoved and feeling herself separated from her tormentor. Lauren opened her eyes to see an unlikely ally coming to her rescue. Bo had both arms wrapped around her teammate and kept smashing her against the row of lockers repeatedly.

"I told you to stay away from her, Clio. What the fuck?!" Bo hissed in the other girl's face. Clio's mousy features scrunched up and turned purple with anger.

"You want me to just let it go? After what she did to me?" She screeched, trying, unsuccessfully, to push Bo off.

"I don't give a damn about your bruised ego, Clio. If I ever catch you anywhere near her I will…" She was interrupted when an adult, authoritative voice called out "Bo! Stop this immediately!"

Their principal was running towards them, Ciara trotting behind her. Bo scowled, but stepped away from her teammate, not tacking her eyes off of her.

"What is the meaning of this?" The principal demanded.

"Just a little misunderstanding, Dr. Unamen. Everything is fine." Bo tried to reassure the principal, but she didn't seem very convincing, standing squared off and staring at Clio.

Lauren got the impression that Bo didn't want to her to explain what had happened, so she remained quiet. But Clio had other ideas.

"Bo has been covering up for Lauren and threatening me." she groused. "Lauren admitted she was the one who poisoned the team, and Bo's been preventing me from telling anyone about it. But I won't be silent anymore. Lauren needs to be held responsible for what she did!"

"Is it true, Lauren?" Dr. Unamen turned toward the young blond.

"Yes," Lauren admitted her part, "But Bo..."

She was not allowed to finish.

"Enough. Bo, Lauren, my office. Now!" The Principal commanded and led the way, both pupils trailing behind her.

Ciara watched them go, wondering if showing up with Principal in tow had hurt Bo and Lauren's chance at a reconciliation. She started to worry when Lauren had taken longer than expected to return, and then saw the soccer team come out and decided her young friend could be in trouble. She raced towards the lockers but was stopped by the principal who wanted to know why Ciara was running around the school at this hour. Ciara didn't even had a chance to come up with a plausible lie when they heard the banging sounds from just up ahead and both followed the noise. They walked in to see Lauren standing off to the side, and Bo shoving Clio against a locker with quite a bit of force.

Ciara was happy to see that whatever had happened between Clio and Lauren, Bo had obviously intervened on the younger girl's behalf. But now they were both in trouble with the principal, and Clio was standing there, clearly pleased with how things turned out as well.

"Show's over, Ciara. This round goes to Clio. Run along now." Clio mocked.

Ciara had turned to leave, but the gloating in the other girl's voice was making her blood boil.

"You think you've won here? If you want to take her on, you're either daft or have a death wish."

"Who? Bo? I can handle Bo." Clio dismissed, despite their earlier confrontation.

"All evidence to the contrary, I wouldn't be so sure." Ciara rebuked, "But I was actually referring to Lauren. You have no idea how smart she is, and what she's capable of. So unless you have someone taste your food for the rest of the year, you should leave her alone."

The memories of the vomiting and diarrhea had momentarily wiped the smirk right off of Clio's face. Until she remembered that both girls were now sitting in the principal's office.

"No matter." She stated with renewed confidence. "With any luck, they will both be suspended, or better yet, expelled, after tonight."

"I wouldn't count on it," Ciara cautioned. "They need Lauren for the science fair. The first round is next week, and if she gets suspended, she won't be eligible to participate. And Bo… Somebody pulled some serious strings and to get her into this school and paid her tuition, so I wouldn't bet on her getting kicked out either." She pointed out.

Her warning delivered, she turned and headed back out. She hoped she was right and that Lauren wouldn't get suspended, which would put a huge bummer on everyone's mood. Otherwise, they had a movie to catch!


	9. Chapter 9

So they ended up with two weeks of detention each. Bo's would start immediately, but Lauren's was delayed by a week and a half to allow her to prepare and participate in the science fair which was taking place next week. This was an unusually light punishment for both of them (after all, Bo was seen hitting another student, and Lauren had poisoned eight) and they had Bo to thank for it, Lauren knew. She herself had contributed little to the conversation beyond an apology, but she marveled at how expertly Bo was able to shape the flow of conversation. Without putting blame on anyone and revealing the full extent of Clio's bullying, she was nevertheless able to put both her and Lauren's actions in perspective, explaining the circumstances without making excuses, sounding remorseful and conciliatory but not guilty, and in the end, suggesting that all parties had learned from this unfortunate experience and a harsh punishment wouldn't be in anyone's interest.

They exited the office and headed towards the exit in compatible silence for a few minutes, until Lauren grabbed the brunette's arm to stop her.

"Bo, are we OK?" she asked with equal parts hope and trepidation. Bo had clearly stuck up for her, both with her teammate and again at the principal's office, but she's yet to say anything directly to Lauren, and that worried the younger teen.

Bo seemed to consider the question for a minute, and Lauren fought with herself not to panic, her heart beating ferociously.

"Bo, I've tried to apologize…" she tried again, but this time was interrupted by the brunette.

"No, stop. It's OK. We're OK Lauren." Bo replied ardently, her smile easing Lauren's anxiety instantly. "Maybe we should…" she started to say but was herself interrupted when Ciara came through the main doors.

"Lauren!" Ciara called out, but stopped when she saw the two teens standing together. "Sorry, never mind. We'll wait for you outside." She stammered and quickly left the way she came in.

Lauren looked at Bo apologetically, waiting for her to continue.

"They are waiting for you?" Bo inquired instead of picking up where she left off.

"We were going to see a movie." She explained. "I was just dropping off my bag when I ran into Clio." Lauren shivered involuntarily at the thought of her encounter with the other girl. She considered asking what Bo was about to suggested before Ciara came looking for her the second time that night, but decided to drop it in favor of a different approach.

"Would you like to come with us? It's an art-house film. I don't know much about it, but Ciara says it's going to be a 'cerebral experience', so it shouldn't be boring." She did her best to sell the movie, but Bo started to shake her head half-way through the description.

"Boring is a matter of perspective. I think I'll pass on the 'cerebral experience'" she chuckled, drawing the quotes in the air. "I get a toothache just thinking about it. Let's talk to morrow, ok?" Bo motioned for them to head out, and they started walking again.

Lauren took a moment to look at the other girl closely. She was walking right next to Lauren, relaxed and genial. They really were OK, she decided.

"Tomorrow." She confirmed. "And Bo… Thank you for today."

Bo opened the doors for them, nodding at her shorter companion. She waved at Ciara, Nadia and Lachlan, but didn't stop to chat with them before disappearing into the night.

Lauren skipped over to where her friends were waiting, feeling lighter and happier than she had in days.

"Are we going to make it?" She asked the group, noting that their expressions varied from amusement to concern.

"Sure, hop in." Nadia pointed to the front passenger seat they have left for her, the couple obviously preferring to keep the back seat for themselves.

"Buckle up, kid," Ciara winked at her. "and prepare for warp speed."

X

True to her word, Bo was waiting for Lauren at her locker the next day.

"What are you doing this weekend?" Bo asked without preamble.

"I…" Lauren paused to think about her to-do list for the weekend. There was a lot on the list – school homework, college homework, getting everything ready for the science fair. But Bo looked really excited about something, and Lauren was really looking forward to getting her relationship back on track, so she decided that there wasn't anything on her list that couldn't wait. "Nothing much," she eventually replied. "Why? What do you have in mind?"

"I'm going to buy a car. Finally saved up enough money and… wait 'till you see her, she's a beaut!" Bo exclaimed. She rooted in her back until she found a folded piece of paper and handed it to Lauren.

Lauren looked at the flier of a used yellow car that had seen much better days. The description read 'Chevrolet Camaro SS Convertible', followed by the price tag. She looked up back at Bo, and had to smile at the excitement that was lighting up brunette's face.

"Can I keep this?" Lauren indicated the flier. "I'd like to do some research."

"Nerd." Bo laughed, bumping her fist into Lauren's shoulder affectionately. "Sure. So you'll come with me?"

"Yes," Lauren confirmed. "When?"

"Saturday. Meet me at noon at the Dal?"

"I'll be there." Lauren promised, stashing away the flier.

Anticipation made time fly, and just before noon on Saturday Lauren approached the tavern, breathless but eager to see what the day would bring. She noted with surprise that Dyson's car wasn't parked by the entrance. Bo had talked about buying her first car non-stop for the rest of the week, and it clearly was a momentous occasion for the older teen, so Lauren expected that Dyson would want to be a part of it.

When she entered the Dal, it was filled nearly to capacity with lunch crowd, and Trick waved at her from the table he was serving, too busy to spare her any time. Bo was just coming out of the kitchens with two plates. She motioned for Lauren to meet at the table with a 'reserved' sign.

"Saved this for us. The Dal gets busy this time of day. Hungry?" Bo said in greeting, sliding one plate towards Lauren.

"I could eat." Lauren conceded and dug in.

Trick had stopped by for a few minute to say hi to Lauren and to wish Bo good luck, than hurried off again. They finished in record time, keeping the conversation to a minimum, and Bo had jumped up and tugged on Lauren to follow as soon as her plate was cleared.

"Come on, come on, let's go!"

"Are we not waiting for Dyson?" Lauren asked, surprised.

"No, he's practically under house arrest until he takes that college admission test." Bo replied, tugging Lauren out the door and towards the bus stop.

Once on the bus, Lauren pulled out the folded flier and a thin notebook.

"I've looked into this car. It's quite popular." She opened her notebook and read off a few things. "Five liter V8 engine, 210 horse powers and 285 lb of torque."

Bo leaned over to look at the notes. There were stats and drawings of various parts. She smiled to herself, touched, but not surprised that Lauren had geeked out on this little project. She listened absentmindedly as Lauren prated on, lost in her own thoughts.

When they reached the dealership, Bo turned to Lauren.

"Listen, Lauren. When I talk to the salesman, keep a poker face on. Don't react to anything he or I say, and don't say anything. Don't tell me anything about the car while he's in the earshot either, got it?"

Lauren nodded that she understood the instructions. She saw Bo's negotiating skills in the principal's office and had no doubt the older teen knew what she was doing.

She happily examined the transmission and the breaks, ran through the belts and hoses, checked for any leaks, then turn on the car and listened to the engine while Bo haggled with a portly older salesman. She discreetly let the brunette know that almost everything she looked at checked out, noting that both tires and breaks would need to be replaced soon, but any damage she saw was normal wear and tear. Bo put that information to good use, driving the price ever lower. The salesman was red in the face and sweating when he shook Bo's hand an hour later, and handed over the keys and paperwork in exchange for a stack of cash.

Bo squealed happily as she hopped over the driver door, landing in the seat neatly. She ran her hands over the leather, alloy and plastic – her gestures affectionate, almost reverent.

Lauren attempted to enter the vehicle the same way Bo did, but had landed with her back on the passenger seat, head barely missing the gear shift, arms askew and feet in the air.

"Oof" She righted herself quickly, and looked at Bo to see if her awkward entrance was noticed. But Bo's shining eyes were on her car. A moment later she started the car, and every horsepower in the engine was engaged as they exited the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" Lauren yelled over the wind, trying to keep her shoulder length hair out of her face. She was hoping they were not headed back to the Dal already.

"I think we should take this baby for a spin. I know some roads just on the outskirts of town that would be perfect." She grinned at Lauren, navigating the car expertly. The day was unusually sunny and warm, and the cool wind felt good against her face, so she didn't regret leaving the top down.

They were cruising on the nearly empty roads, just content to feel the muscle car eat up the motorway. Since Bo was fully engaged in her driving experience, Lauren started tinkering with the radio, changing the stations until Bo screamed at her to stop.

"Oh my god, can this be any more perfect?" she exclaimed, turning up the sound and falling into the rhythms of Tom Petty's song.

"And I'm free, free fallin'

Yeah I'm free, free fallin'

Free fallin', now I'm free fallin', now I'm

Free fallin', now I'm free fallin'"

Lauren just watched, amused by Bo's antics.

"Don't you know this song?" Bo asked after the chorus.

"Nope." Lauren admitted, just happy to share this experience with Bo, even if she didn't get to sing along.

The Tom Petty song was over and Lauren went back to changing channels again, stopping abruptly when a familiar song purred from the speakers. "I know this one!" she looked over to Bo, who shook her head to indicate that she didn't. Lauren considered telling her companion that she only remembered the song because it made her think of Bo when she heard it, but got caught up in the performance and before she knew it, she was belting out the lyrics along with the singer, bobbing her head in time with the music.

"I'm a red-hot fox, I can take the knocks,

I'm a hammer from hell, honey, can't you tell?

The wild one, yes, she's the wild one.

I'm a blue-eyed bitch and I wanna get rich,

Get out of my way 'cause I'm here to stay.

The wild one, yes, she's the wild one!

The wild one, yes, she's the wild one!

The wild one, yes, she's the wild one!"

Bo decided she liked the song as well, and started to join Lauren on the chorus when a clucking noise from the engine cut through the music.

"What'd just happened?" Bo let go of the wheel as they coasted to a stop on the shoulder.

Lauren examined the dashboard, looking for engine temp and a few other things before pointing out the gas gage. The dial was on empty. "You're out of gas."

"No effing way!" Bo swore, incredulous. They were outside the city limits now, shrubbery and small ponds stretching on both sides of the road instead of buildings and storefronts.

"We could call for help." Lauren pointed out calmly.

"We could, if I had a signal out here." Bo responded looking at the phone's display.

"I think I saw a gas station about 5 minutes ago. Do you have any money left over?"

"Plenty." Bo confirmed. "How far would we have to walk?"

Lauren did some mental calculations. Five minutes by cat at roughly 45 miles/hour meant they traveled about 3.75 miles, and should cover that distance by foot in…

"Seventy five minutes, give or take" she responded quickly.

"OK, that's doable." Bo said, her good mood returning. "Hey, it's an adventure within an adventure!"

"Never a dull moment when you are around, my friend." Lauren agreed, following the older girl down the road.

"So, we are friends now?" Bo asked.

Lauren looked over in surprise, taking a minute to play back her most recent statement in her mind, as well as a number of past conversations. She didn't even realize she said the word 'friend' until Bo called her on it, and was startled to discover that it was the first time she called Bo by that title, out loud or to herself. But that was exactly how she felt about the older brunette now.

"Yes" Lauren answered succinctly.

"Good." Bo smiled back. "And speaking as your friend, I should apologize to you too, about not being there for you. When Clio was messing with you in the cafeteria. Hale was there and he told Dyson and me what happened." She explained. "I was going to tell you I was sorry, but then you retaliated and I got so mad."

"I know." Lauren whispered, glad to get the events of the past few weeks out into the open.

"Took me a little while to put it behind me." Bo continued, but she was smiling as she said it.

"What made you finally forgive me?" Lauren asked, picking at her stich on her shirt, trying to hide from the older teen just how much she wanted to know the answer to that.

"Honestly, it wasn't anything you did." Bo admitted, surprising Lauren. "I told Trick what had happened the day after those damn cookies, and he sat me down for a lecture on bullying. He told me a few things that he himself went through, and explained how things would look from your perspective." Bo stuffed both hands in her pockets, feeling vulnerable herself. "So… the reason it took me so long to say anything to you is because I was embarrassed." She explained. "I didn't know how to apologize to you, so I just brooded for days on end."

Lauren listened intently. She'd been no stranger to bullying, though to be fair, the incidents she encountered since joining Sacred Heart where far from the worst and far less frequent than at her other school. She wondered about that out loud.

"You were just unlucky they announced at assembly who you were." Bo could see that Lauren didn't follow, so she continued. "Most kids at our school come from rich and powerful families, and you don't want to bully someone whose father can end your father's career, or worse, so there really isn't a lot of bulling going on at that school. Kids are careful about who they pick on, and you, my friend, are primate meat for picking. You don't have a powerful family backing you up."

"But neither to do you. Did they pick on you?" Lauren asked.

"They did, back when we were first graders. But I've always been pretty social and popular, and Trick taught me how to stand up for myself – physically and socially – so it didn't last long. I guess it's also why I forgot so quickly what it felt like, and had joined in with Clio when she bullied others, when she bullied you."

"That's how we met." Lauren reminded her friend.

Bo nodded, remembering the incident well.

"So most kids at our school come from prominent families?" Lauren asked.

"Oh yeah. Let's see," Bo made a quick list of students that Lauren had interacted with the most.

"Clio's father is a writer. Some murder-mystery fluff, but I guess he's pretty popular, because they are mega rich.

"Dyson's father is the State's attorney and he's pushing Dyson to follow in his footsteps." Bo chuckled. "But Dyson wants to be a cop! His father will be supper pissed if he follows through with that plan.

"Ciara comes from a family of art collectors. They own several galleries and probably half of the pieces at our Metropolitan museum. Lachlan's family owns the main hospital in town. Nadia's mom is the chief editor for the Times. Hale's dad is the mayor. You see what kind of company we've been keeping?" She pocked at Lauren, making the blond laugh.

"And what about you, how did you end up at this school?" Lauren inquired.

"That's a mystery. I was about six years old when a letter arrived from an elementary school that's part of the same outfit as our high school, saying I've been admitted and my tuition has been paid through my senior year. I didn't care where to go, but Trick was really impressed with their records. And that's how I ended up among the kids of the town's most privileged citizens. We know your story of course."

"That's funny, you and I are not much alike, except we are both misfits in this school." Lauren pointed out.

"Misfits and delinquents!" Bo reminded her friend. "Speaking of that, have you ever had detention before?"

"No, I've never even been in trouble before." Lauren stated vehemently.

"Figures. You need to learn how to talk your way out of trouble, Lauren. It's probably one of the most important things I learned in this school, and I didn't learn it from the teachers. So I'm going to help you." Bo promised.

"By teaching me to talk the way you do?" Lauren asked, seeing how useful the skill could be firsthand.

"No, kid. I'll help you to get into trouble! I decided you need more fun in your life." Bo laughed.

"Yey…" Lauren responded unenthusiastically.

They walked in a comfortable silence for a few minutes until Bo put a hand out to stop Lauren.

"Did you hear that?"

"What?" Lauren asked, turning around and listening for anything unusual. Bo pointed her in the direction she heard the sound come from and a few moments later Lauren through she could hear a faint 'arf-arf' coming from somewhere.

Bo clearly heard it too, because she grabbed for Lauren's arm and pulled her along into the shrubbery lining their side of the road. "Over there" She pointed at a pond that came into view a few moments later as they moved farther off the road.

Lauren followed the direction Bo indicated and saw a small, dark form struggling through the murky waters.

"It's a dog." She said. There was a tennis ball bobbing not far from the animal, and it was clear the dog was trying to reach it.

"I think he's in trouble." Bo said, watching the animal struggling to reach his toy.

"Why? He got that far, I think he's going to be OK." Lauren said, also watching the animal carefully. He whimpered and barked, but Lauren couldn't tell if it because he was anxious to reach his toy or because he was in distress.

"I'm going to get him out." Bo pronounced after another moment and proceeded to remove her shoes.

"Wait, Bo, this is stagnant water, there is no way to know how badly contaminated it is without running some tests. There are waterborne pathogens – bacteria, viruses, protozoa, algae, multi-celled parasites – that can make you very sick." Lauren implored her friend.

"Lauren, I'm going in regardless," Bo said, steadfast, "so, any practical advice before I take the plunge?"

Lauren let out a deep sigh, not at all happy but understanding that Bo needed to follow her gut on this. "Don't swallow any water, and try to keep it out of your eyes, nose and mouth as much as possible." She advised, starting to each just from thinking about what could be in the inky water.

Bo waded in as far as she could, then pushed off and started to swim for the dog, who have managed to snag the ball by then and was laboriously making his way towards the shore. Bo caught up with him quickly and grabbed him around the middle with one arm, lifting more of his upper body out of the water and continuing to swim across as best she could, her progress made more difficult by a struggling dog who didn't understand he was being rescued and refused to stay still. When Bo reached the shallow waters and was able to stand up, she used both arms to hug the squirming animal to her chest. The dog, either disliking being handled or yearning for solid ground just feet away, had redoubled his struggles to get free. He found some purchase with his hind legs against Bo's ribcage and sprung off, smacking his rescuer in the face with a wet tail in the process. He took a few steps away, shook off the excess water and ran off, happily chewing on the soggy ball between his teeth.

Lauren, observing the scene unfold from the safety of dry land, broke into giggles watching Bo fight to hold on to the dog, then dissolved into hysterical laughter when Bo had gotten a face full of wet tail for her trouble.

Bo stood knee deep in the water, watching departing dog with narrowed eyes.

"Oh sure, keep running, you ungrateful mutt!" she yelled after his retreating form.

Dog reprimanded, she turned her attention to her younger friend, seeing little reason to join her in mirth at the moment. She had a momentary desire to step right up to Lauren and shake off her own excess water onto her unsympathetic friend, but decided that germy water was not the way to get her revenge.

Lauren had made an effort to choke down her laughter, but it was not an easy task. Bo's waterlogged appearance was more comical than she could have imagined – sodden hair plastered against her neck and shoulders, mascara smudges from cheek to chin, light summer dress bunched up on her chest and hips, leaving one shoulder and thigh bare, thin patches of green algae clinging to cloth and skin alike.

Scowling, Bo came out of the water, picked up her discarded shoes and wallet and headed back towards the road.

"My one good dead for the day." She dropped over her shoulder. "Hurry up, Lauren, I want to get to the gas station and wash up a bit."

Lauren hurried to catch up to her taller friend. When they reached the road, Bo put her shoes back on, holding onto Lauren for balance. Up close, Lauren covertly examined Bo's skin, looking for signs of irritation from the water. She felt a little better not seeing any suspicious bumps or redness, but still worried, so she urged Bo to walk faster.

It took another 20 minutes to reach the gas station, and both released when it came into sight.

"Race you!" Bo yelled and took off, Lauren close on her hills.

The gas station had a small convenience store and a bathroom attached, so Bo handed the wallet to Lauren and instructed her to buy a canister and gas and headed for the bathroom.

Lauren grabbed a canister that would hold 2 gallons of gas and headed to the checkout counter. The attendant greeter and asked if there is anything else she needed.

"2 gallons of unleaded," the girl replied distractedly, still thinking about the pond. "Do you have a car was here?" she asked the clerk.

"No, but there is a water pump outside, and some rugs and sponges for cleaning" he answered helpfully.

"Well, it's not a car I need to clean" Lauren admitted. "My friend had tried to rescue a stray dog from a pond, and I'm really worried about what she could have been exposed to in the water."

"They are not toxic, but I wouldn't go dipping my toe in them." The man confirmed Lauren's suspicions. He thought about their predicament for a moment. "The water in the pump is clean, you can use the soap from the bathroom, it's better than nothing." He offered and handed her a few quarters. At Lauren's questioning look he pointed to the water tank outside. "For the pump." Lauren smiled her thanks than went through the store's aisles again, picking up a few more things and tacking everything to get it rang up.

When she came out, Bo was waiting for her, face scrubbed clean, but not looking much better overall.

"All set?" she asked Lauren, ready to head back to the car.

"Not quite." The blond shook her head. "Grab some soap from the washroom, I think we should try to get you cleaned up a bit as soon as possible."

Bo looked perplexed, but did as she was told. When she came out with a bar of soap, she saw Lauren unfolding a long hose and dropping some coins into the machine. She turned the spigot then walked over to Bo, unfolding the hose as she went. She stopped a few feet away from the older girl and squeezed the sprayer. Noting happened. She tried a few more times, with similar results. Letting out a huff, she returned to the pump and gave the spigot a few more revolutions. Nothing happened immediately, so she turned the handle again, and was nearly swept off her feet as the hose rapidly filled with water under pressure and unfolded in her arms.

Bo waved her arms out, mimicking Lauren's spastic flailing while trying to hold on to the hose, obviously founding the tableau amusing.

Lauren narrowed her eyes at her incorrigible friend, and realized her revenge was already at hand. She aimed the spray at Bo and the water hit the older girl in the chest with a force of fist. Bo tried to cover up by placing her hands in the path of water, but Lauren didn't relent, pointing at unprotected parts.

"Common Bo, I'm not trying to be mean, I really need to get as much of the muck off you as possible. Just cover your face and turn around, this won't take long."

Bo yelled something back at Lauren that the blond couldn't quite discern, but assumed was a curse of some kind. She did turn, tough, so Lauren let it go. After a thorough pass over as much of her friend as she was able, she went back to the tank and lessened the water pressure.

"There is a wash cloth in the basket, leather up!" Lauren instructed her friend. Once the soap was applied and washed off, Lauren handed Bo some cloths to use as towels. They filled the canister and headed back to the car, hauling back a filled gas canister and a few other ins and outs that Lauren picked out. They stopped at the pond where they found a dog and Lauren collected some water and algae for later testing.

They reached the car just as the sun was setting, and Bo pulled the top up while Lauren poured gas into the tank. The car roared to life seconds later and two friends relaxed into leather seats, spent from their adventure but happy with where they were with each other.

**Author's note:**

**Lyrics from Tom Petty's "Free Falling" www dot youtube dot com slash **watch?v=1lWJXDG2i0A **and Suzi Quatro's "The Wild One" ****www dot youtube dot com slash **watch?v=-ioY3fnMnNc


	10. Chapter 10

Bo cracked open an eyelid and looked around for the source of disturbance. After a few moments of disoriented searching, she saw her cell phone vibrating on the nightstand, skidding haphazardly across the smooth surface with each unanswered ring. She reluctantly pulled one arm from under the warm blanket and grabbed the skittering device.

" 'lo?" She answered without looking at the caller ID.

"Bo, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Lauren's voice sounded thinly from the other end. It was also ridiculously chipper, considering the hour, Bo thought.

" 's OK" Bo mumbled, clearly trying to expend as little energy as possible to maintain the conversation.

"I just wanted to tell you, I ran the tests on the water."

"Hmm?" Bo probed for clarification.

"From the pond? And it's OK. It's not as bad as I feared, so, if you took a long shower, you should be OK." Lauren answered helpfully.

"Hm." Bo confirmed. She took a long shower and dabbed some antibacterial ointment on any abrasion she saw on her skin.

"OK, I just wanted to tell you so you wouldn't worry. I'll see you at school on Monday. Good night, Bo." Lauren murmured, sad she had waken her friend from sound sleep. If anything, it was clear that Lauren was the only one worried about the toxicity of the water. Though if Bo knew what Lauren knew about pollutants, she would have been worried too. _Oh, the bliss of ignorance,_ Lauren lamented internally.

"Night." Bo replied and shut off her phone, trying to recapture her dreamscape.

She'd been dreaming about a most excellent adventure when she was pulled out from her slumber by a call from Lauren - she was a sword-wielding superhero with magical powers, fighting a demon of some sort. More precisely, she was giving him an ass-whooping. He was seven feet tall, with bull's face, horns, hooves and tale, but a body of a man. He was brandishing a scary-looking axe, but she was meeting it with her sword stroke for stroke.

She was wearing a long leather coat with a high collar, a simple black top with a plunging neckline, tight black leather pants and knee-high black leather boots with 4-inch heels – and she looked hot! The fighting, the power she could feel coiled within, her outfit, it all felt exhilarating. She felt strong, and fast, and clever, and sexy, and very capable of besting a big ugly demon with ease, almost laughing at his inept attempts to skewer her.

It was easily the best dream she ever had, and she hoped she'd remember it in the morning so she can tell her friends about it. And if, come morning, the idea of demons and superpowers would seem too weird to share, than at least she'll tell them about a rocking outfit she saw herself in. With that last thought and a smile, she slipped back into dreamscape.

On Monday, when she ran into Lauren in the hallway, the first words out of the blonde teen were an apology for waking Bo up. Bo interrupted, uninterested in the apology, and pulled her friend into a relatively quiet spot to tell her about the team she had.

Lauren listened attentively and only interrupted once to tell Bo that dreams are a specific kind of distorted reality, a way for the brain to process real events, and that Bo's alter ego in the dream was a reflection of who she was in life – strong, brave, smart and very capable.

But Lauren's eyes started to glaze over when conversation focused on the description of Bo's attire in the dream. Bo didn't mind – Lauren wasn't the person to go all gaga over an outfit like some other people. Besides, the one person whose opinion she was most concerned about regarding the outfit was Dyson, and he whole-heartedly agreed it was totally hot. So she decided not to torture her brainy friend with any more fashion talk.

"What were you doing up so late anyway when you called?" She asked, walking Lauren to her next class, which was on the way to her own.

"Science takes time, Bo. Those cultures I made from pond water needed to mature." Lauren lectured gently. She had started on the tests as soon as she got home, and knew she would not be able to sleep until she had the results. If the findings were bad, she would have insisted that Bo should go to the emergency room. _You don't mess with toxins!_ Lauren felt strongly.

"And while I was waiting on that, I thought I'd start on some extraneous tasks for the science fair I've been putting off, like making that stupid display board for my booth," Lauren let out an exasperated sigh just remembering the hours spent on that project. "Even with Aunt Ashley's help it took a long time. Neither of us is very good at arts and crafts stuff. It was tedious work, and boring as hell. So we took lots of breaks – first to bake cookies, then to eat them. We got done with the display, but I'm not very happy with it."

"Do you want me to come help you with it? I'm not very good at arts and crafts myself, but I can at least offer another pair of clumsy hands and some company," Bo offered.

"You still have your detention," Lauren reminded her friend. "And anyway, I asked Ciara if she can help – I know she's really creative – and she said she'll come over tonight with Nadia and a bunch of supplies. If all goes well, we'll be done this evening."

"Oh, OK," Bo said, forlorn. She was happy Lauren had other friends, of course, but she too wanted to be a part of this experience, to be of some help.

Lauren must have sensed her friend's thoughts, because she quickly added "But I could still use your help with something else, if you are available."

"What's that?" Bo asked, curious.

"I need help getting some things to the convention center where the fair is being held, and setting up my booth." Just as she finished speaking, the bell announced the start of a next period, and Lauren was visibly anxious to get to her class, but Bo seemed less concerned with being late herself.

"Ciara and Nadia can't help you?" Bo knew she sounded petty, but she was a little hurt, and her thoughts had traveled straight to her mouth, bypassing any kind of filter.

"They are going to be at a debate competition, but I haven't asked them…" Lauren paused to collect her thoughts, seeing that Bo was somehow hurt by not being included in the other project. "I'm sorry, Bo. I thought that working on display board is something that they would see as a fun activity – they are always talking about drawing and decorating, and I knew you'd find it just as tedious as I do. But the other stuff – getting my booth set up, that's not fun for anyone, but you are my best friend, and if I was going to ask anyone for help, it would be you. You are… well, you can make anything fun, just by being there." Lauren confessed.

Bo had to bite the inside of her check to keep her face expressionless. Of course Lauren had a logical reason for asking the other girls for help on the arts and crafts project. And she didn't forget about Bo, instead, she thought about what the older teen would and wouldn't like, and planned accordingly. She was actually more considerate than most everyone else, which was another reason Bo liked her. She just needed to remember that Lauren's thought process was different than that of her peers – she was more calculating, more logical, but never in a conniving or devious way.

It was now some time after the bell, and they were both horribly late for class, so there wasn't time to make plans. "I'll be happy to help, Lauren. Let's catch up at lunch and go over the details?" Bo suggested as a peace offering.

Lauren smiled in agreement and ducked into her classroom, murmuring an awkward apology to the teacher. Bo hurried to her own class, making a silent vow that she'll help Lauren any way she can.

About an hour later, Bo and Dyson sat their lunch trays at the table already occupied by Lauren and Ciara. Ciara blushed and stammered in her greeting to the pair, never taking her eyes off Dyson, her crush painfully obvious to all present. But the others elected not to notice or call her out on it, taking their cues from Bo on this matter. The brush brunette and Ciara had not been best of friends, but Bo never made a scene about her feelings, never acted territorial or jealous. Neither did Dyson, at least until recently. Ciara noticed that since the start of the school year, he'd seemed more wary whenever Bo was focused on someone other than him. She noted how his eyes darted between Bo and Lauren as the two girls discussed Lauren's upcoming science fair – alert and stormy.

The discussion turned to setup to the fair and Bo was asking what she can do to help.

"I could really use another pair of hands and another car," Lauren was saying. "I would need to transport my display board, several blocks of concrete and some boxes with my chem equipment. I think with two cars, we'd only have to make one trip."

"Blocks of concrete? What's this project about?" Dyson asked, shifting closer to Bo to steal some fries off her plate.

"She has invented a method to heal concrete!" Ciara answered, happy to have Dyson's attention shift over to her for just a moment.

"Like, if concrete had a boo-boo?" Dyson joked, looking at Bo to see if she would laugh. Bo wasn't laughing. Instead, she turned to give Dyson her patented death stare, but couldn't pull of the look, her face only registering surprise once she saw how close Dyson was sitting to her. She watched him chew on a fry that obviously didn't come from is plate and snapped him on the forehead.

"Actually, I wouldn't mind a recap of your project, since I'm going to have to figure out how to fit it on the display board." Ciara interjected again.

Lauren had been watching Bo and Dyson, wondering if the interaction could be considered playful or antagonistic. It was always so hard to tell with these things. At Ciara's request, she dug in her backpack and pulled out a stack of stapled papers that she handed to Ciara.

"I won't bore you with the story, so here's everything you'll need." She said cheerfully, nodding at the papers in Ciara's hands.

Ciara leafed through the pages, noting long paragraphs intermingled with chemical formulas and drawings of cross-sections. She looked at her younger friend, exasperated. Bo and Dyson smirked from across the table.

"There are like 10 pages here. Why don't you just give me the cliff notes?" Ciara asked, dropping the papers in her backpack.

"Now?" Lauren asked, unsure if Bo and Dyson wanted to hear about her project. When they all nodded, she pushed her hair behind her ears to give herself a moment to decide what information to include. "I invented bioconcrete - that's concrete that heals itself using bacteria." She began. She looked at the group to see if she had their attention before continuing. "Concrete tends to crack when exposed to water over time. But I developed bacteria that can 'heal' the cracks that develop from that exposure."

Talking about science always brought out a more outgoing personality in Lauren. While she spoke, her lips curled into a soft smile, voice deepened, eyes opened wider and her arms drew wild shapes in the air. It was fascinating to observe the switch and to see a very different side to the normally subdued girl.

Lauren, of course, remained oblivious to the change in her demeanor as she continued with her spiel. "Bacteria gets added when concrete is mixed, and it can wait dormant and survive for years before it is activated by water. When it's activated, it produces spores that turn into limestone and repair the cracks in concrete. The biggest challenge, really, was finding the right food source for bacteria, but I think I found the most optimal one for this purpose…" she paused for dramatic effect, "Calcium lactate!" She exclaimed, as if it should have been painfully obvious. But absolutely no one at the table looked like they had grasped the significance of that pronouncement.

Seeing, instead, the blank looks on her friends' faces, she remembered who she was talking to. So she decided to focus less on the science, and more on the circumstances that led to her discovery. "It's an ingredient in backing powder, and I wasn't even thinking about using it for my project when I stumbled upon it. I had been playing around with various types of sugar as a food source, but it was softening the concrete, so I was getting really frustrated, because what will anyone do with soft concrete?! And then one day I remember thinking that I'd wasted enough sugar to bake a million cookies, so I got a sudden craving for something sweet. So I went into the kitchen and started pulling the ingredients together, and as I grabbed the box of baking powder, 'calcium lactate' jumped out at me from the list of ingredients on the side of the box. And I had this eureka moment when I thought about calcium lactate and how it will react with concrete. I ran some tests, and it was perfect! So all I had to do then is mix it with my bacteria, put it in capsules and drop them into wet concrete mix.

"When I demonstrate my invention at the fair, I'll show how when cracks form in the concrete, water enters and opens the capsules. The bacteria germinate, multiply and feed on the lactate; and then it combines the calcium with carbonate ions to form limestone, which – Ta Da! - closes up the cracks!" Lauren finished, triumphant.

Bo gamely tried to look impressed. "Mind – blown" she mimed the explosion of the head.

"Yes, I can feel my brain leaking out as we speak," Dyson added, though he didn't try to hide how very boring he found the whole thing. "So that explains why you'll be bringing the concrete blocks to the fair. But why not hire the movers?"

"Because not everyone can just throw money at every problem, Dyson. Besides, it's not like she's bringing the London Bridge with her. It's just some blocks, we can handle it. It's what friends are for!" Bo insisted. She wasn't surprised Dyson would try to pawn off the work to someone for hire. It's what kids who grew up with money always tried to do. But it was rarely an option for someone like herself or Lauren.

Dyson didn't look convinced. "Friends are there for whatever you need. If Lauren needs money to pay for the movers, I can help with that." He looked at Lauren to see if the teen was amenable to his offer.

"Dyson, I'm…" Lauren trailed off, not sure how to explain that taking his money wasn't something she was comfortable with. She tried to convey both gratitude and apology with her eyes, but Dyson just looked at her blankly. She could see that Bo understood, though, and it made her happy to know she wasn't alone in feeling like an outsider in this school for rich kids.

Bo didn't try to restrain a heavy sigh. "Look, Dyson, let me simplify this for you. We are going to show up at Lauren's with both our cars on Saturday morning. You can apply your considerable muscle to help us," she squeezed his bicep for emphasis, "or, if you are afraid to strain something, you can stand around and watch me and Lauren lift everything ourselves. Right, Lauren?" Bo looked at her friend across the table, and Lauren pulled back her sleeve and flexed a bicep in agreement. For a scrawny 14 year old who didn't participate in sports, Lauren had rather nice looking upper arms, Bo noted.

Dyson's completive nature had obviously responded to such a challenge, and he flexed both arms and chest, muscles visibly moving under his tight t-shirt. "Dyson will come." He grunted out in a gravelly voice, possibly imitating some movie character.

Ciara just about swooned. Bo was used to such displays and just laughed. Lauren mentally conceded that Dyson had far superior musculature, though she couldn't help wondering if it was developed naturally, or induced chemically.

Ciara pulled her eyes away from Dyson with difficulty and turned to Lauren. "I wish I could also come," she admitted to the younger teen. Mentally, she was calculating how much trouble she would be in if she skipped her debate competition. Watching Dyson would be… She blushed at the mere thought. And helping Lauren would be a nice bonus, too.

Lauren patted her friend's shoulder. "You are the best debater on the team, they will lose without you. And I am so grateful that you will be helping me with my display board. I know whatever you can come up with will be a million times better than what I've done with it so far!" Lauren assured her friend.

"Yeah, you're right. I can't let the team down." Ciara conceded. Also, she thought she couldn't possibly prevent herself from drooling if her imagination of what Dyson would look like, lifting hefty chunks of concrete, came anywhere close to reality. And, surely, Bo's patience could not be without end, and she would find an excuse to drop something heavy – like an abovementioned chunk of concrete – on Ciara's foot, if she were so inclined. Better not to tempt fate, she decided.

Time moved quickly and Saturday morning came all too fast. Anxious about the upcoming event, Lauren barely slept on Friday night.

By Saturday morning, bleary-eyed Lauren and her aunt had lined up 7 concrete foot-long cubes and 4 large boxes with her supplies when Bo and Dyson arrived within minutes of each other. Bo hopped out of her car and went to help Lauren bring the display board downstairs. She had to admit it looked great and very professional-looking, something she knew she herself wouldn't have come up with. She told Lauren as much, and the blonde teen revealed that it took the three of them – Ciara, Nadia and herself – 3 evenings to get it done, and she was never happier to have friends who enjoyed cutting out frames, drawing boarders, coloring in shapes and gluing.

Aunt Ashley called out from the kitchen that she had bagels, muffins and juice all ready, and the teens happily stuffed themselves with carbs and sweets before starting to load their cars.

"Are you wearing that to the fair?" Bo asked, pointing at Lauren's t-shirt and jeans. Both looked well-worn, the shirt sporting a faded print of Albert Einstein with his tongue out, and jeans a few rips and stains.

"No, I have a change of clothing for the event. I like what you are wearing though." Lauren indicated Bo's jean overalls. Underneath, she had on a concert t-shirt, but Lauren couldn't tell from what concert since most of the print was covered. Lauren thought her friend looked adorable.

"Yes, Bo would look sexy in a paper bag, but I too like this look." Dyson chimed in. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans, and though his clothing had a worn look to them as well, Bo knew they were brand new and manufactured to look tatty.

The day was chilly, typical of late fall, but it didn't take long for everyone to work up some sweat. Dyson had taken off his shirt about half way through loading, and was getting appreciative looks from Bo, the passersbys and even aunt Ashley, though she, at least, was trying to be discrete about it. Ciara's imagination, it turned out, was spot on.

Working together, they made good time, and within 2 hours they had loaded, transported and unloaded all the materials at Lauren's booth in the convention center. Bo looked around and saw there were hundreds of booths just like Lauren's, with kids and adults darting to and fro, preparing for a big event. Just as they finished setting everything up, the school's principals and a few other well-dressed people stopped by Lauren's booth. Dr. Unamen, their principal, introduced her companions as Mr. So-and-so and Mrs. So-and-so, and Bo wondered if these people had particular interest in Lauren's project or if they were fair officials and would be meeting all contestants.

The group ooohed and aaahed when they saw Lauren's display board, and listened with rapt attention as Lauren described her project. Bo watched them as Lauren spoke, and she was sure they were able to follow Lauren's geek-talk with little effort. She also saw respect and admiration for her friend, and she made a note to look them up later and see if these were the kind of people whose patronage Lauren should try to cultivate.

One of the men, Mr. Jonkers, ran his fingers along the concrete block before looking up at Lauren. "This could be the start of a new age of biological buildings." He said and the other adults all nodded in agreement. "Concrete is the world's most popular building material, and ever since the Romans built the pantheon from it some 2,000 years ago, we've been trying to find ways to make it more durable. But no matter how carefully it is mixed or reinforced, all concrete eventually cracks," he continued. "Until now. This is truly revolutionary, Lauren, and the practical implications of your discovery are boundless."

"Well done, Lauren." Principal Unamen congratulated the blonde teenager. The others too had added their complements one by one.

Lauren practically glowed at the lavish praise from adults, then looked over at Bo and Dyson to see how they were reacting. She was concerned they may feel jealous at all the attention she was getting, but she needn't have worried. Both looked content to be there for their friend.

The announcer came on the stage and started to welcome everyone, and Bo though it was a good time for her and Dyson to slip out.

"Lauren," she waited until she had the younger girl's full attention, since like all the other participants Lauren had turned to look at the stage. "We are going to take off, but we'll come back and help you tear down in the evening, ok?"

"Yes, thank you." Lauren said, hugging both Bo and Dyson briefly and awkwardly.

"Sure thing, kiddo. Now, go change before you are asked to get up on stage in this dusty shirt to get your trophy!" Bo reminded her friend, dusting off her overalls for empathies.

"Lauren, you need to change!" Lauren's aunt Ashley had just returned from the bathroom where she swapped her jeans and t-shirt for clean dress suitable for the venue. She took her place by the large display board, the picture of a proud parent.

"Going!" Lauren huffed and waved goodbye to her friends. Bo and Dyson had little interest in hanging around a geeky science fair all day, so they planned to spend the day elsewhere.

Lauren couldn't blame them. Even she found parts of the event tedious. She had demonstrated her invention what seemed like a thousand times, shook a million hands, and thanked a million people for their kind praise. She indeed ended up with a first prize trophy, and was just posing for pictures with their school principal and the sponsors of the fair when Bo and Dyson returned.

She disengaged herself from adults as fast as she was able to and went to show her trophy to her friends. Dyson whistled appreciatively, and Bo hugged the smaller blonde. "You are the queen of geek!" she told Lauren and mock bowed.

Lauren giggled and pretended to fluff up some imaginary ruffles on her dress. It was good to goof off with friends after a day of trying to impress a bunch of adults.

Bo caught the site of their principal standing with fair officials, and could tell they were unhappy with Lauren's early departure. She considered telling her friend to go back and do some schmoozing, but could tell from the slight twitching of the blonde's hands that she had her fill of the noisy, crowded space and was ready to get a move on. But it did remind her that she had something to share.

"I looked up some of the people the principal had brought over at the start of the fair. One of them is a professor of Chemistry at MIT and another is a founder of a biochemistry lab called 'Synthesis'. Have you heard of it?"

Lauren thought about the name and decided she never heard it. "Nope, but I'll do some research on them when I get home. Thank you for looking into them!" she said, sincerely grateful. "Let's pack up, I think my arm will fall off if I'm forced to shake one more hand here."

"As you wish." Bo answered with another half-bow and grabbed their folded boxes from under the table.

They packed everything up and reloaded their cars in record time. On the way back, they made a slight detour to a dump site where they unloaded the concrete blocks and a few other things Lauren wouldn't need anymore, so when they pulled up at Lauren's, there were only a few boxes to unload and bring inside. It was still early, and despite a long day the teens seemed to be jazzed and eager to keep going.

"How about we go celebrate at the Dal?" Bo asked the group. "Food is on the house and Trick has cupcakes that we can stack together to make a makeshift cake."

"Food is always on the house," Lauren observed. "How do you manage it?"

Bo laughed. "We don't. That's why we never have any money, despite being a popular bar and having loads of loyal customers. Half of them are Trick's friends and they eat and drink on the house almost every time."

"Well, that explains it." Lauren nodded in understanding. She looked down at herself – she was back in the cloths she wore in the morning. "Should we change?" She asked, indicating herself and her aunt.

"If you want to" Bo shrugged. "But Dyson and I are not." Dyson nodded in agreement. He was perfectly content in his dusty, wrinkled t-shirt and jeans.

Aunt Ashley surprised Lauren by turning down the invitation, saying she was absolutely exhausted after a long day, and promising that she will organize another celebration for Lauren soon and that, of course, Bo and Dyson would be the first to be invited. She thanked both teenagers profusely and waved at them as they all piled into Dyson's car for a trip to the tavern.

The three teens chatted about their day as they exited the car at the Dal, but stopped when a loud sound of car door closing drew their attention to a woman who stood a nearby, leaning against the side of a very expensive-looking sports car. She was indisputably beautiful. Curvy and slender, she looked exotic with her dark hair and dark makeup. Dressed impeccably in form fitting tailor-made skirt and blouse, with a leather jacket thrown over one shoulder, she projected confidence and sensuality.

She looked over the teens as they stood rooted on the spot. She seemed to dismiss Lauren quickly, but her gaze lingered on Dyson. Her eyes appeared to smolder as she give the boy her full attention, a tip of the pink tong appearing briefly to wet her lower lip. Dyson reveled in the older woman's attention, puffing out his chest until Bo elbowed him in the side. The motion brought the woman's attention to Bo, and she smirked at the teenager.

"What _are_ you wearing, darling?" She examined Bo from her concords up to her messy ponytail. "I can't tell if you were trying for a 'rag rat' or a 'grunge' look, but the only way to describe the ensemble is – unfortunate."

Bo bristled at the insult. "It's good to see you too, Mother."

**Author's note #1:**

Sorry for a cliff-hanger. I was hoping to be further along in this chapter in terms of the plot lines, but got a little verbose. So it was either this, or a very long chapter that would take a lot longer to write. But, in a way of apology, I'll give you a brief glimpse into what's coming next in this story. The next chapter will likely be the last 'high school' chapter. After that, the story will move into present day – which happens to be a decade and a half later than the events described in this chapter, and our two favorite ladies will be full grown adults, with adult jobs and adult relationships. How does that sound?

**Author's note #2:**

Bio-concrete is a recent invention. Here's the article about it from CNN (most of what Lauren says about it is lifted directly from this article): www dot CNN dot com /2015/05/14/tech/bioconcrete-delft-jonkers/


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: Wow, this story now has 114 followers, 40 favorites and 125 reviews! Just wow! Thank you everyone for your continued interest in this story. Every review, every follow, every favorite is like a present for me, and I love getting presents!**

**So, this is a super long (for me) chapter, but I made you guys a promise that there will be only one more chapter with our girls before they grow up, and I wanted to keep that promise. Next chapter will introduce them as adults. However, I'm leaving on vacation in a few days and the next chapter will not be written until after I come back, so there will be a nearly 4 week break in posting. But fear not, I have every intention of continuing with this story, so stay tuned!**

Lauren was startled by a sudden touch on her shoulder. She looked up from the microscope and saw her aunt standing by her side with a phone in hand.

"Bo" aunt Ashley said in the way of explanation for the interruption and handed the phone to the teen. Lauren mouthed a 'thank you', but the door was already softly closing on her aunt.

Lauren turned away from her mini lab to prevent the pull of science from sidetracking her from the conversation, and put the cordless to her ear.

"Bo?" she questioned into the phone.

"Hey Lauren." Bo's voice on the other end of the line was unusually subdued. "Are you busy? I…" she chocked up. "Feel like having company?"

"Yes, I'm here, I'm free. Do you want me to come over?" The agitation she felt from Bo's end was nearly palpable, so Lauren stood up from her chair and started pacing her bedroom, her back cracking from being locked in the same position for too long.

"Actually, I was hoping for any excuse to get out of the house. Trick and my mother are discussing parental responsibilities."

"Ah, I see." Lauren searched for something soothing to say, but nothing was coming to mind. But then she remembered the reason for Bo's call. She glanced at the wall clock, which read 10:49 PM and knew her aunt wouldn't let her leave the house at this hour, but she was a lot less strict about Lauren's bed time. "Would you like to come over to my place? We can make root beer floats." She said, trying to sweeten the deal.

"Yeah, that sounds nice," Bo agreed readily.

"How soon can you be here?" Lauren looked around her room. It was mostly tidy despite the unmade bad and the lab equipment covering her work table. She could straighten it all out in less than 10 minutes, she was sure. That would leave time to take the ice-cream out and see what else can be found in the fridge that would help put a smile on her friend's face.

There was a slight pause on Bo's end, and Lauren had a second to wonder if her friend was calculating distances and traffic patterns or was getting caught up in an argument between her mother and grandfather. But it turned out the hesitation was caused by something else entirely.

"Actually, I'm already at your door." The words were punctuated by a ringing door bell. Moments later Lauren heard the front door opening. She walked up the top of the stairs just as Bo was entering. She was being greeted by aunt Ashley, and if she thought it was strange that Bo still had a phone pressed to her ear as she entered, she didn't let on. Bo finally hung up the phone when she saw Lauren at the top of the stairs and quickly climbed to the second floor.

"Do you want an ice-cream float? Or just ice-cream? Or just root beer?" Lauren listed some options, still a little taken aback by Bo's swift appearance.

"Maybe later. Let's go into your room." Bo ushered them both inside and closed the door behind them. "This is nice." She commented, giving a room a once-over. It was large for a bedroom, but there wasn't much empty space. A twin bed, a dresser and a book case were pushed up against one wall, and Bo smiled at the cartoon characters on the comforter. She caught 'Pinky and The Brain' on Cartoon Channel a few times, and though it wasn't her favorite cartoon, she thought it suited Lauren. But majority of the space in the room was taken up by a massive desk that held various lab equipment.

"Where do you do your homework?" Bo asked, looking at a large microscope, computer and stacks of slides and vials.

"Out in the loft. I tend to sprawl when I'm running experiments and my text books constantly fall of the edge of the table." Lauren plopped on her bed, motioning for Bo to take her desk chair. But Bo was too agitated to sit just yet. She walked over to a book case and scanned through books and knick-knacks. Tucked away in one corner, in a simple putter case was a picture of a smiling couple in uniform. She picked it up, recognizing Lauren's distinctive chin on the man in the picture.

"Are these your parents?" she asked pointing at the picture. When Lauren nodded, she looked back at the photograph, trying to match any of Lauren's features to the woman. "How come you never talk about them?" She asked, not taking her eyes off the happy couple in the picture.

"Probably for the same reason you don't talk about yours." Lauren was watching her friend's stiff posture and clenched jaw, wondering what she was thinking while looking at the only picture of her parents Lauren had in her room.

"Huh." Bo exhaled loudly. She put the photograph back and picked up a model of DNA from another shelf, running her fingers over the rounded edges.

She said nothing else, but Lauren thought she detected an unspoken 'I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours' and decided she didn't mind sharing with her friend, tough it would be the first time she talked about her parents with anyone other than aunt Ashley.

"They are both career navy – serving as trauma surgeons on navy ships and bases. They met in med school and signed up together. They have been in the navy long enough to get any posting they want, so they have been practically everywhere." Lauren traced the outline of a cartoon mouse on her comforter as she spoke. "They come to visit when they are on leave, but it's pretty rare for them to come together. I've seen my mom in May, but dad haven't been to visit since last Christmas." There was much more that she could tell Bo about her parents, but what she already shared was leaving Lauren a bit choked up and not eager to continue.

"So your aunt's been raising you?" Bo still held on to the DNA model, but she was looking at Lauren again. The story about Lauren's parents had its desired effect to end the little pity-party Bo's been indulging in since her mother's unexpected arrival a day earlier.

"Since I was about 3." Lauren offered another tidbit of her story. "I know aunt Ashley always wanted kids, so when my mom approached her about caring for me full time so she could return to the aircraft carrier where she and dad were stationed before I was born, she agreed."

"Just like that, huh?" Bo felt angry for her friend and did little to hide it.

"I think my parents wanted kids, too," Lauren looked up to meet her friend's stormy eyes, warmed by the edge of protectiveness she could feel from them. "They just didn't realize until after I was born that they wonted other things more."

"I knew if I hang around you long enough, I'll find something we have in common. It seems both of us are foundlings." Bo was on the move again, walking over to the mini lab. Her fingers itched to touch some of the glass probes, but she had developed a healthy respect for Lauren's scientific acumen over couple of months they've known each other, and she decided she was not going to lose a finger by sticking it where it didn't belong.

Lauren wasn't sure how to respond again, a situation she found herself frequently in. She saw the pain and the anger underneath Bo's words. "When was the last time you saw your mother?" She asked, her tone gentle.

"I don't know. Trick wouldn't tell me, and I have no memories of her." Bo tapped her nail against one of the glass containers, unable to resist. It gave of a loud clinking sound and Bo thought it would feel magnificent to watch it shatter into a million pieces.

"Then how did you know it was her, yesterday?" Lauren asked.

"I saw enough photographs of her over the years. She would send three of four letters each year, not for anyone's birthday, just on random days. And she would always include a picture of herself somewhere fancy – like a restaurant atop the Eiffel tower, or in a jeep in front of a pyramid in Egypt, or on horseback on a beach in Hawaii." Bo scratched her eyebrow, trying to distract herself. She could see Lauren from the periphery of her vision, the younger teen listening quietly from her spot on the bed.

"Did you ever write her back?" Lauren enquired, clenching her arms together, hating how helpless she felt to comfort her friend.

Bo laughed humorlessly. "There was never a return address on those letters. And I probably shouldn't have called them 'letters' – they were brief notes, like 'I'm doing well, visiting with some friends in Morocco' or some shit like that." Bo raised both arms for emphasis.

"And your father…?" Lauren asked, tough she already knew the answer.

"Never met him." Bo shrugged.

Silence fell around the two teens while they contemplated their own and the other's family situations.

Lauren was the first to break the silence. "Your mom is here now, so that's something, right? Will she stay? Does she want to get to know you?" She said hopefully. She must have hit on something extra sensitive with one of the questions because Bo flinched as if stunned.

"She says she's going to stick around for some time." Bo didn't know if she believed it yet. "She's got a place she's renting. Moving in tomorrow." Bo finally settled down, dropping down on Lauren's bed next to the younger teen. "She wants me to move in with her for a while. Get to know each other."

"Wow. That's quite a…" Lauren mimed an explosion with her arms. "Are you going to do it?"

"Would you?" Bo turned the question around.

Lauren's response was an immediate "Yes." Yes, her parent's absence has hurt her, but getting to know her parents, her origin, wouldn't be something she could pass up.

"OK, then it's settled. Let's go have root beer floats!" Bo sprung up from the bed, but paused at the door. Lauren hasn't moved, surprised into immobility by her friend's abrupt about-face and a change of attitude.

"Just like that?" She repeated Bo's words from earlier.

"Yep, unless you lied about having ice-cream. I'm all done with adult, serious conversation. Now I just want something sweet. You got it or not?" Bo raised her eyebrows at Lauren, her tone playful.

Lauren decided to follow her friend's example and drop the intense mood in favor of sweets. She bounced and launched herself off the bed, grabbing Bo's hand and leading them down to the kitchen and the refrigerator, where there was, hopefully, plenty of ice-cream.

The next day – Monday – was one of the busiest for Lauren, and she didn't have much chance to catch up with Bo at school other than to confirm that the older brunette will be tacking a few of her things over to her mom's new place right after school. Bo seemed resigned to the idea of spending time with her mother, so when later that evening Lauren's aunt brought in the phone again into her room and told her it was Bo, Lauren did not expect the exuberant tone from the other end of the line.

"Oh my god, Lauren, you should see this place, it's freaking awesome!" Bo gushed in lieu of hello.

A little lost for words, Lauren could only come up with "Huh?"

"This place, it's a mansion!" Bo continued, undeterred. "But not like a stuffy old mansion, more like a house of a rock star! It's great for parties, and mom says we can have one tonight. The caterers are on the way. Do you want to come?"

Lauren glanced at the clock then back at the open text book in front of her. "I think it's kind of late, Bo, and I have a lot of homework to finish. Maybe another time?" She didn't want to disappoint her friend, but the practical side of her had won over.

Bo didn't seem too upset by the rejection, to Lauren's relief. "No worries, with a place like this, I image we'll have a few more parties in the near future. I'll call some others; see you tomorrow at school, Lauren." She hung up, her voice just as chipper at the end as it was at the beginning of the conversation.

The following day Lauren saw Bo at the cafeteria, sitting with her usual crowd.

Lauren was just walking through the large room, on her way to buy some tea, when she saw a few other kids come up to Bo and chat with her briefly before walking away. Her tea in hand, Lauren walked over to where Bo was sitting.

"Hey Lauren, busy tonight? I'm having another party." She waved at a few kids that had walked by, giving her thumbs up. "A few people showed up last night and we had a blast, so we are doing it again today."

"I don't know." Lauren furred her eyebrows and pinched her lips, something about the invitation raising flags in her mind.

"Well, here's the address, if you change your mind." Bo handed her a business card that was blank on one side and had an address printed on the other. Lauren tucked it away, and before she could say anything else someone was elbowing her to move along. She stepped to the side and her space was immediately taken up by another kid, who was obviously interested in the address. She gave Bo an apologetic shrug and mouthed "see yah," before moving off.

School, then her college courses had quickly swallowed up her attention, and she didn't give the card or the party another thought until the next week, when she once again found herself in the cafeteria. She followed a couple of students through the doors, eavesdropping on their conversation. They caught her attention when they started discussing a house with a room that was just like a dance floor in a typical club while standing by the lockers next to hers, so she trailed after them. When they entered the cafeteria, it was buzzing with activity. Lauren once again saw that most of the student traffic passed by Bo's table, with students stopping to say a few words before moving on. Like a moth to the flame, she was drawn in, and soon found herself behind a tall boy who was standing next to Bo, telling her that he had a great time and was looking forward to coming back for another party.

When Lauren finally stood next to Bo, she noted that her friend's eyes looked tired and bloodshot, and there was a very large coffee cup in front of her.

Bo smiled in greeting. "Half this damn school showed up last night. Some didn't leave until the morning. You're missing out, Lauren." She looked happy, but couldn't suppress a large yawn at the end.

"You look tired." Lauren noted the obvious. "How are things with your mother?" She changed the topic, knowing that Bo had moved into the house to repair that relationship.

"Mom's great! She's totally laid back and doesn't fret about anything."

Lauren had noticed that it was the first time Bo referred to the woman who gave her birth as a 'mom' instead of a 'mother'. She hoped it meant that they were getting along. Maybe she should find the time to visit and meet this woman, she thought to herself.

"I'm glad to hear that." She told her friend. "I'll try to stop by and see you tonight." She moved on, very cognizant of a long line of students behind her, waiting to talk to Bo. The situation with Bo's mother was far more intriguing than a mere party, and Lauren resolved to make an appearance as soon as possible.

The house Bo's mother had rented was in one of the more upscale neighborhoods, and was hard to reach by bus. Luckily, Lauren had a sizable allowance these days, thanks to wining the science fair. The first prize came with a large check, and aunt Ashley deposited a portion of it into Lauren's account. So when Lauren hailed a cab and told the cabby where she was going, she was happy to have that as an option.

When she was dropped off at her destination, Lauren had to admit the house and the grounds looked very impressive. She noted that others were arriving and recognized some as the kids she'd seen in the school cafeteria or in her classes. The other arrivals were dropping off their cars with a valet service and heading in trough the main entrance. Lauren followed them in, finding the inside just as posh as the outside.

She walked by a darkened room with a dozen or so kids dancing to a techno beat. Continuing farther in, she saw more rooms and more kids. In one room, a group of teenagers was sitting around on large sofas, smoking and chatting. In another, several boys were playing pool. She recognized one of them as Dyson and walked in, looking around for Bo.

Her friend wasn't there, but when she turned around to leave, Lauren run into someone who came up right behind her. The young, attractive woman in black and white server outfit expertly rebalanced the tray she was holding before any food tumbled over. The woman apologized (although Lauren was sure the near miss was entirely her fault) and offered her some food. Lauren looked over a selection, and grabbed something that looked like a stuffed leaf, before moving on in search of her friend. She munched on the food on her way and found it very tasty.

A man walked by her in a hallway, dressed casually in a t-shirt and jeans. He was by far the oldest person Lauren met thus far. She felt him giving her a once-over, and tough it felt more clinical than creepy, she still started to fidget, adjusting her school uniform. She didn't think to change before dropping off her back pack and leaving the house, and when she thought about it now, she realized she looked very different than the girls she had seen partying thus far.

"How old are you?" The man asked, sans pleasantries.

Lauren furred her eyebrows, wondering why she was being asked that particular question. "Fourteen."

Before she could say anything else, the man raised his arms in agitation, shouted "Seriously?!" and walked away.

Lauren watched him go for a minute, wondering about the exchange, then shrugged and moved down the hall to the next room. That's where she saw Bo, sitting on a couch opposite from a man and a woman. Lauren recognized the woman as Bo's mother, but she couldn't place the young man sitting next to her. She walked in, knocking at the door to get Bo's attention, though she didn't think she was interrupting anything – all three room occupants were sitting in complete silence.

When Bo looked up and saw Lauren, she waved her over, her movements sloppy.

"Lauren, you came!" Bo greeted in a strange tone of voice, elongating some vowels seemingly at random. "Put up a couch!"

"Huh?" Lauren moved closer, sure she misheard.

"I mean, pull up a couch!" Bo tried again, but Lauren was still confused.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Bo, tired of having to explain, just grabbed Lauren by the arm and pulled until the blonde girl was seated on the couch next to her friend. Bo smiled down at her, her smile as sloppy as her wave was. The room smelled a little weird, and Lauren wondered if maybe Bo had been smoking pot before she came in. Leaving her friend to lounge boundlessly next to her, she turned instead to the older woman and her companion. The man looked way too young to be Bo's father, Lauren decided after a moment of observation. "Hi, I'm Lauren," she introduced herself.

"Aife, I'm Bo's mother." The older woman answered. The man didn't react to Lauren, or to anything else, until Aife put a hand on his check to get his attention. "Darling, why don't you fetch us some wine? You remember what I like?" She spoke softly, like to a child. The young man nodded and grinned, getting up a little clumsily and leaving the room.

"So, Lauren," Aife turned her attention back to the teenager. "Do you go to school with Bo?"

"Yes, ma'am, we have English Lit together."

"Ma'am?" Aife chuckled. "Just call me Aife."

Lauren nodded, but didn't know what else to say. Socially awkward at best of times, she felt ill prepared for small talk with Bo's mother. She looked over at Bo, but her friend was silent next to her, her head tipped back on the couch cushions. Turing back, she saw Aife was quietly observing her, giving no indication she had anything to add to the conversation. Silences, in general, made Lauren uncomfortable, and this time was no exception.

If she were brave, she would ask the woman why she was out of her daughter's life for so long, or how long she was planning on staying, but Lauren wasn't that brave.

There was a commotion in the hallway just outside of their room, and Lauren was temporally thankful for the distraction, until she saw her old nemesis, Clio, stumble into the room with another girl from Bo's soccer team. The two giggled and headed straight for Aife.

"We ran out." The girl whose name Lauren couldn't remember told Bo's mother, who reached into a purse and came up with a shiny cigarette case, handing it over with a smile. The girl gripped the case and started to move back out of the room, pulling Clio with her, but that's when the older girl noticed Lauren. She looked at Lauren's button-down shirt, vest and pressed pants.

"Oh, Dauren! I mean Lauren!" Clio greeted, cackling.

"You are so baked…" her friend murmured, trying to pull Clio out of the room, but the older girl refused to budge, still looking at Lauren.

"You are such a dike!" She stopped to think for a moment, eyebrows furrowed so severely it looked comical. "No. I mean a dork!" Another pause had followed, and her face split in a smile. "No, I meant both!" She finished triumphantly, as if she resolved a great puzzle.

Lauren was stunned by the vitriol directed at her, but she wasn't sure what would be an appropriate response, considering that, although mean, Clio wasn't exactly wrong. She felt movement from next to her and realized that Bo had not missed the little greeting.

Bo pushed herself off the couch, and stumbled over to Clio, punching her in the face when she was close enough. Clio felt backwards until her back hit the wall, where she slid down, holding both hands to her face. Lauren thought she saw a trickle of blood come out from underneath the clenched hands.

The other teammate had rushed over to Clio, pulling her hands off to examine the damage. There was some blood that Lauren could clearly see now trickling down from a nostril, but otherwise Clio looked all right. Lauren guessed that in her inebriated state, Bo's punch lacked its usual 'oomph' factor.

The two teammates had staggered out of the room, Clio leaning heavily on her friend. Bo returned back to her couch, choosing to say nothing, and resumed her repose.

Aife, however, had been looking at Lauren with a new interest. Between Aife's staring and Bo's comatose calmness, Lauren didn't know which way to turn. She felt like crying, the words of a stupid girl cutting her deeper than she thought possible. While she was never liked by most, this was the first time Lauren felt hated by another person, and it was disconcerting how much this knowledge hurt.

Deciding she's had enough for one evening, Lauren got up and left the room, not looking back or saying goodbye. She made her way outside as quickly as she could, flagging the nearest valet kid and asking if he could call a taxi for her. The young man clicked on his walky-talky and spoke into it for a minute, before turning back to Lauren. "It's pulling up now" he pointed to a yellow cab that was indeed coming to a stop at the entrance at exactly that moment. They must have had a couple of them on hand, ready to take partygoers home. Lauren didn't ask more questions, she climbed into the cab and told the cabbie her home address.

When she was safely dropped off at her place, Lauren shuffled into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water.

"Lauren?" aunt Ashley followed her niece in, noting her dejected posture.

"Have you ever had someone hate you?" Lauren asked without turning back. "Really hate you?" She pressed both arms against the sink, feeling her whole body tremble with grief and pain.

"Lauren, baby, what happened?" aunt Ashley wrapped Lauren into a tight embrace, rocking her slightly from side to side. Lauren didn't answer. She turned around and buried her face in her aunt's chest and let the tears finally fall.

Back at the mansion, Bo was finally coming down from her high. She was alone in the room, and when she felt stable enough to walk about, she went in search of a familiar face. She saw her mother in a study, powering up her computer.

"Mom?" She walked in, perching on the desk. "Did Lauren leave?"

"Some time ago, I believe." Aife replied, looking up at her daughter. "This Lauren, she's a friend of yours?" Getting a nod from Bo, she went on. "She seemed… insipid, darling. Are you sure she's worth the effort?"

"Mom, you don't know anything about her." Bo defended her friend.

It was Aife's turn to nod. "Very well. And this other girl? The one you punched? What's her name?"

"Clio. We're on a same soccer team, and she has it in for Lauren since they met, though I thought I made it clear she should leave the kid alone." Bo mumbled angrily.

"So this is not the first time you confronted Clio?"

Bo shook her head. "But it will be last when I see her next time." She promised.

Aife smiled, petting her daughter on the arm. "No need, darling, I'll take care of it." Bo raised an eyebrow, curious, and waited for her mother to go on. "If at first you don't succeeded, do not try the same thing again." Aife explained, though Bo still had no idea what her mother had planned. But Aife was a very capable woman, she could tell from being around her for just a few days, and so she resolved to leave the matter in her mother's hands for the moment.

"OK, I'm starving, I'll see you later." She said and left in search of one of many servers roaming the halls with trays of food.

The next day at school Lauren caught with Bo by her locker. "Hey, Bo." She greeted. She took in her friend's bedraggled state and tired eyes. "You alight?"

"Yeah, sure, just a bit tired." Bo confessed, trying, unsuccessfully, to smooth out the wrinkles in her shirt.

"Maybe you can get some rest tonight." Lauren offered timidly.

"Nah. We are getting the pool and Jacuzzi serviced today. So come on by the house after school and bring the bathing suit."

Another student, walking by them at that moment, stopped when she heard Bo mention the pool. "Is it on for tonight?" She asked Bo, a huge smile on her face.

"Yeah, spread the word." Bo told the girl. "Heated pool and Jacuzzi are open tonight!" The two of them high-fived each other and the girl run off to share the news with her friends.

Lauren was starting to get concerned for her friend. Was she getting enough sleep? Was she doing her homework? She was about to ask, but another group of students walked up to them and soon she found herself separated from Bo by several rows of people. She let out a sign and turned to leave, but was stopped by a familiar face.

"Hi Lauren!" Ciara waved to someone in the crowd that was forming around Bo that she will be right there, then looked back at her friend. "Have you seen Clio today?" When Lauren shook her head, Ciara clapped her hands in glee. "She's wearing an inch of concealer to cover up the bruise on her nose! Do you know anything about how she got it?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Lauren admitted, though it pained her to be talking about it still. She spent a long time crying last night, and though she refused to tell her aunt the whole story, she wasn't really in the mood to tell it to anyone else either.

"Why don't you tell me about it tonight? Are you coming to Bo's?" Ciara asked, not picking up on Lauren's dark mood.

"Possibly." Lauren answered, not ready to commit. Ciara looked like she was itching to go join a large group still surrounding Bo, but Lauren wasn't ready to let her go just yet. "Hey, I meant to ask you – you have a couple of classes with Bo - how's she doing?"

Ciara gave the question its due consideration. "Do you mean since the start of the year or since her mom came to town?" She attempted to clarify. When Lauren shrugged to indicate she was interested in any information her friend had, Ciara put a hand on her shoulder to guide her away from the group of students. When they had a bit of privacy, she gave Lauren a knowing look. "She hasn't turn in any homework since week before last, and earlier today she bombed the pop quiz in History. I'm sitting a row behind her, I saw she left most of the questions blank when we were turning it in." She whispered. "Do you think she's… in trouble?"

"I don't know." Lauren answered honestly. "But I worry about her." They were interrupted by the bell, but exchanged a glance before parting ways to let the other know they'll be keeping an eye on their wayward friend.

Despite her reservations, Lauren decided to return to the house Bo was staying at once more that evening. Almost as soon as she stepped over the threshold, she was approached by the man who asked for her age the night before.

"Are you Lauren?" he questioned, blocking her path.

Lauren nodded.

"I'm Hank. I'm a concierge doctor Aife hired."

"Is someone sick? Is Bo OK?" Lauren asked, concerned.

"Relatively speaking, everyone's OK." Hank could tell that Lauren didn't know what a concierge doctor was. He worked on retainer for a select group of individuals, typically the rich and the elite, providing medical services for things that those who hired him wanted to keep private, including dealing with drug use or underage drinking. For Aife, he was a glorified babysitter, there to make sure no one overdosed, or to render immediate aid if someone had.

"Bo is actually why I'm here. She asked that I keep an eye on you." He continued. As the only person who was reliably sober, he was the best for the job.

Lauren bristled at the notion that she needed a babysitter, but the man was there to do a job, so he didn't need to be on the receiving end of her displeasure. "OK. I'll see you around." She told him and went in search of her friends. Walking by the billiard room, she saw most of the gang - Dyson, Ciara, Nadia and Hale. They welcomed her into their ranks and she sat on a bar stool watching while they finished up their game.

Back at the entrance of the house, Clio was walking in with a few of her friends. They were greeted by young man dressed in the server's uniform. He addressed Clio directly.

"Miss, Aife would like a word with you in her study. Would you follow me?" He requested politely and offered her his elbow. Clio winked at her friends and put her hand on the man's arm, allowing him to lead her into the house.

Aife was already seated at the desk when Clio came in. She turned to the server who stood at the threshold, awaiting further instructions. "Find my daughter and ask her to join us." She requested, giving the young man a charming smile. The server visibly blushed and half-bowed before leaving the room.

"Men think they are wild animals, but with just a right look, they are willing to eat out of your hand." Aife noted. Clio looked like she was ready to eat out of her hand as well. Aife had that effect on people. They – both man and women, rich and poor, elite and lowlifes - were swept up by her charisma, her sex appeal, her defiance of social norms, and her ability to get around any obstacle. This was a woman who got what she wanted, did what she wanted, fucked who she wanted, and never felt bad about any of it.

It wasn't long before Bo came in, her step faltering briefly when she saw Clio standing in the middle of the study.

"Mom?" She looked over at the older woman. Aife sat relaxed yet perfectly poised in her chair.

"Ah, darling. Good of you to join us." Aife smiled at her daughter. "Now that we are all here, Clio, there is something I wanted to show you." She handed the folder to Clio, who took it, intrigued.

Inside where several photos of a young woman and several pages that were typed up on legal stationary.

"What's that?" Clio asked, confused. Bo was looking at the contents over her shoulder, and both looked up at Aife wondering what they were looking at.

Aife smiled, and this time it looked predatory. "Clio, darling, I did some research. Your father is Alfred Powning, a bestselling author of several novels." Clio nodded, her father's fame being a common knowledge among the friends.

"You see, "Aife continued, "I know you have a great deal of money, and you may think that having this money gives you power." Aife spoke serenely. "You are mistaken." She paused to let her words sink in. "Money is transient - here today, gone tomorrow. Real power comes from information. Let me prove it to you." Her calmness was hypnotizing, and Clio stood speechless.

Aife pointed at the pictures clutched in Clio's hand. "This here is Savanah. She's a 23-year-old former model who sued your father several years ago for having sex with her when she was underage. She didn't go to the police, since what she really was after was money, and she had enough evidence that your father's lawyer convinced him to pay to settle out of court. He paid her 3 million dollars to go away and never bother him again. The settlement came with a gag order, but I think Savanah could be persuaded to talk now. It's amazing how quickly 3 million dollars and then some can be spent, and Savanah wasn't very smart about who she turned to for loans when your father's money ran out.

"When this story goes public," Aife continued, uninterrupted, "how many other girls do you think will come out with a similar story? Thee? Eight? A dozen?" She asked, though her question was clearly rhetorical. "In no time at all, your father will find himself on the wrong end of at least half a dozen civil lawsuits, as well as state prosecution, for sleeping with underage girls. Being a convicted sex offender is not good for business. The publishing company will drop him. The suits and legal fees will drain all your money. Even if he can avoid jail, you'll be left with nothing."

Clio's expression went from angry to frightened. She wanted to flee the room, but Bo had inadvertently boxed her in between herself and her mother, and even if she could break free, she wasn't sure her legs would carry her at the moment. So she stood, rooted in front of Aife who was unrelenting in her delivery.

"That's how quickly things could turn. So you see, my dear Clio, information is the only real power in this world." Aife gracefully rose from her chair and approached the two girls. Standing directly in front of Clio, she made sure the teenager heard every word. "I know how to get information. And if I have to go up against your father, or any other rich, entitled, self-absorbed bastard, I will always win." She emphasized the last part. "Do you understand me?"

Clio felt her whole body vibrate as if it was being tuned. "What do you want?" She barely squeezed past chattering teeth.

"Don't ever give my daughter any more trouble." Aife said in the same calm voice she used all evening. It had the desired effect, she could see by looking at the teenager.

Clio didn't realize her hands were shaking until she dropped the folder she'd been holding. The photograph spilled out onto the floor and Clio jumped when one rebounded off of a desk leg and came sliding towards her feet.

"Yes! I'm sorry! I understand! I'm sorry!" She ran out of the room, not looking back.

Aife turned to Bo who was watching her former friend depart with amusement. "And that's how we take care of a problem once and for all." She put a hand on Bo's shoulder, and the girl turned to face her mother.

"Thanks mom." She said, sincerely grateful for the help and the lesson.

Out in the hallway, Clio, eager to leave the house and never come back, collided with Lauren, who was once again roaming the house in search of her friend. Clio was white as a sheet, and Lauren felt a pang of sympathy for the older girl. But before she could ask if she was OK, Clio's face stretched into a smile that looked more like a grimace.

"Lauren! How good to see you." She said, unusually cordial.

Lauren was at a loss at how to react. "Ah, hi. How are you?" She said taking a step back and wondering if she should go get Hank. Something was clearly wrong with the older girl.

"Great! Just great! You look lovely today." Clio continued, giving an admirable attempt to make nice with the little geek.

"Thanks" Lauren drawled, still eyeing Clio suspiciously.

Just then the door to the study had opened and Bo came out. Clio saw her and hurried to make her exit, running past Lauren at full sprint. Lauren watched her make it almost to the door before she was halted by Hank who shoved her roughly against the wall. He immediately produced a small light and pointed it into each of Clio's eyes while holding her wriggling body to the wall with one hand. It dawned on Lauren that Hank was checking to see if Clio was high on something, and she was glad for his presence in the house.

She turned away from the scene when she felt Bo's presence just behind her. The brunette girl was smiling wide and Lauren couldn't help an answering smile.

"My mom is the evil genius!" Bo informed her friend, raising both arms in invitation for high-five.

Lauren looked from Bo's face to the raised arms and back, uncertain what was expected of her. After a moment, Bo lowered her arms, smirking at her friend's lack of knowledge on social cues.

"Is that a good thing?" Lauren inquired, wondering if 'evil genius' was a better moniker than 'mad scientist' that Bo called her at times.

"It is in this case." Her friend supplied. "Come on, let me show you the house." She grabbed Lauren's arm and led her inward.

They walked past one of the sitting rooms and Lauren paused, indicating she wanted to go in. Lauren thought this was a good place to talk to her friend about her concerns, so she turned to Bo as soon as they were settled. "Bo, I'm happy you are getting along with your mom and getting to know her, but you look so tired at school every day. Maybe you can spend a few days at home, catch up on rest and homework." She said gently.

Bo was not pleased with Lauren's meddling, her mood souring instantly. "I'm fine, I don't need anything from home."

Lauren didn't see how upset her friend was getting, so she tried to reason with her. "Your schoolwork is getting affected, and we are just a week before midterms." She pointed out.

Bo was truly mad now. Her euphoria from just a few minutes ago was completely gone, wasted on the silliest thing ever – school work.

"Lauren, there are more important things than school." She seethed. "I'm finally learning something about my mother, and she's amazing! Trick never told me anything about her. I just assumed she left because she didn't want to be my mother, but now I think she left because she didn't want to be Trick's daughter!"

Lauren was taken aback. She met Trick several times and thought him to be a kind, gentle, stable, level-headed person and a great parental figure for Bo. Aife, in contrast, seemed volatile and aloof, with questionable parental tactics.

She had only briefly met the woman, so it would be wrong to make a judgment, but she felt compelled to defend Trick. "Trick raised you, Bo."

"So he did. Whatever." Bo dismissed. "Did you know that he never left town in all my memory? We never left this town! And Aife has been everywhere, done so many things." She felt the anger bubbling just under the surface the longer this conversation went on. Why didn't Lauren understand that her mom was a million times cooler than Trick; smarter, funnier, more successful. She was someone Bo wanted to emulate, and she never felt this way about her grandfather. "When she leaves town, I'm going to go with her, Lauren."

"Bo, no!" Lauren cried out. "What about school? And Trick? And Dyson and your friends?" She implored the older teen.

"You are thinking so small, Lauren. Maybe mom was right, and we don't really have much in common." Bo rose up off the couch and stomped out of the room, leaving the bewildered Lauren behind.

Heartbroken, Lauren decided to head home. Her own homework was waiting, mostly untouched. Maybe she would wake up tomorrow and things would be back to normal, she thought glumly.

The next day at school Lauren waited for Bo by her locker, but the older girl never showed. At lunch time, she went to the cafeteria, hoping she'd find her there, but she wasn't at her usual table or in line for food. Her last hope was that she would at least see her friend in a class they had together later that day. She saw Lachlan and Nadia at one of the tables and headed towards them. A moment after she sat down, Dyson appeared at their table and sat across from Lauren. Since Dyson wasn't friends with Lachlan or Nadia, and only socialized with Lauren when Bo was around, the young blonde was surprised to see him.

"Hi Dyson, are you looking for Bo?" She asked him.

"No, she didn't come to school today." He said gruffly.

Lauren wondered if he blamed her for Bo's absence. "Do you know why?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

So he was blaming her. "Dyson, I don't know what's going on with her."

Something was clearly changing in Bo. Late nights, skipping school, drinking and smoking pot, ignoring her boyfriend, ignoring her friends – Bo was spiraling, and the people who cared about her where being pulled into the vortex right along with her.

Dyson was shouting at her. "You're the only one she seems to care about lately, so why don't you do something about it, Lauren?" He smashed his palms on the dining table, rattling everyone's dishes. Lauren, unused to such outbursts, did a fine imitation of a turtle trying to retreat into its shell, except there were nowhere to go for her. Luckily, both Lachlan and Nadia took hold of the distraught Dyson and got him to sit back down.

"I can't lose her, Lauren." He wept. His words burned a hole through Lauren's insides.

"I'll talk to her, Dyson." She promised.

That's how she found herself in Bo's house for the third evening in the row. Hank waved at her when she came in, but stayed where he was, dealing with a blond boy who was arguing about tacking a cab home, though he could barely stand upright. It was late, and Lauren decided she should ask about Bo's whereabouts instead of looking for her all over the enormous house. The second person she asked told her she had seen Bo upstairs in the east wing. She went up the grand spiral staircase to the second floor and turned right to the east wing. She passed a few closed doors before coming up to one that was open. Looking in, she saw a couple making out just inside, standing in a way that neither of their faces was visible to Lauren. As she watched, the boy lifted his companion onto the dresser, her head thumping against a mirror. When it did, she turned her head and opened her eyes, and for a second her gaze met with Lauren's. With a jolt, she recognized the girl as Bo.

Lauren sputtered an apology and bolted as soon as the recognition finished processing in her mind. While she was not adverse to observe the anonymous couple for a few minutes to assuage her curiosity, the thought of watching Bo – Bo! – in the same position was nauseating. She was happy her friend was reconnecting with Dyson, she just didn't want to be anywhere near them at the moment.

She ran down the stairs, her eyes and mind cloudy. The exit was in sight, and she was eager to be out of the house, when a voice that strangely didn't belong there stopped her.

"Lauren!" Dyson shouted from somewhere to her right. She froze. He walked towards her while scanning the crowd around them repeatedly, not yet noticing the confusion plainly visible on her face. "Have you seen Bo?" He asked, still not really looking at Lauren.

He finally did focus on her, when he received no answer from the blonde teen. "Lauren?" As she remained silent, he began to react to the look of panic on her face. "Lauren, what is it?" He asked, looking directly into Lauren's eyes.

"Ahh, nothing." Lauren stammered.

Lauren was never comfortable with lying. She had been training to be a scientist since she was very young, and science held a very uncompromising view on lying – science was about seeking the truths, and lying was akin to heresy.

Involuntarily, Lauren cut her eyes towards the room upstairs she just fled. Then back at Dyson. Her thoughts turned to Bo and how she looked making out. With someone other than Dyson.

He probably read her look, because he sprinted up the stairs and to the right without asking any more questions. Lauren hesitated for a minute, but decided to follow. She was just reaching the top of the stairs when she heard the unmistakable sounds of fist hitting flesh. When she reached the room, she saw Bo and Dyson standing several feet apart, screaming at each other. The other boy was sitting against the wall, both hands pressed up against his nose that was bleeding profusely.

"You don't own me!" Bo was shouting. "I can make out with anyone I want!"

Dyson was shouting something back, but Lauren wasn't listening to him. She was watching Bo, who abruptly turned towards Lauren, training her gaze at the younger teen instead.

"Did you tell him?" She demanded.

"No!" Lauren exclaimed. She felt tears drop and was surprised to find herself crying. Everything was unraveling and she didn't know how to stop it. Bo and Dyson, Bo and her – all the strings were breaking now.

"No, she didn't tell me." Dyson spoke up, still glaring at Bo, more so now that she was no longer engaging in their spat. "You think I wouldn't have found out?"

Bo's had enough of it all. "Get out!" She barked out. "Both of you, get out!" She looked from Dyson to Lauren and back again.

There wasn't much more to say after that, so they both left. Both, but not together.

X

The following day was Friday, and Lauren dreaded going to school for a first time in a long time. But not going was not an option, so she pulled herself together, eating breakfast and making small talk with her aunt before boarding the school bus. She could think of little else than the events of the several previous evenings. She wondered if Bo would come to school today, and if she had, if she would talk to her when they saw each other. Lauren couldn't help but remember the last time Bo and her were on the outs, and how much it hurt to have the older girl ignore her day after day.

Her questions were partially answered when saw Bo in the cafeteria at her usual table during lunch. She noted that Dyson was sitting with Hale at a table that was farthest out from them. He sat with his back to Bo's table, and even from the distance Lauren could tell he looked haggard.

Bo, on the other hand, was laughing loudly, surrounded by a large group of kids who all laughed with her. Always a popular kid, it seemed Bo was more popular now than ever.

Lauren turned away and went to join Ciara and others at their usual table. Her friends, like most other kids at school that day, were discussing something or other that happened at Bo's party, and Lauren found she couldn't stand to listen another word of it. So she made her excuses and left the table in search of a quiet place where she could catch up on her homework.

Just before the end of the lunch hour, as she hurried to her lesson, she saw Bo coming out of the bathroom. She was by herself, which was quite rare since the start of last week. Taking a deep breath for courage, Lauren approached her friend.

"Bo, I…" She swallowed the lump of nervousness and tried again. "Can we talk? I hate how things ended between us last night."

"Are you going to lecture me again about what I'm doing with my time – my time –" she repeated for empathies, "Lauren?"

"No, no lectures." Lauren shook her head.

"What then?" Bo asked, impatient.

"I … " Lauren tried again, but stopped when she realized what she was about to say could be perceived as a tacit reprimand. So she opted for something she hoped would be neutral. "How are you doing?"

Bo let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. "God, Lauren, you're so boring!" She moved past Lauren and kept walking until she reached her classroom, not looking back.

Lauren choked on a sob.

She stood on the same spot for some time, not noticing the passage of time. It was probably half way through the period when she shook herself from the stasis her body was in. Going to the class was pointless now, so she took her things and went home. Home, where she could bury herself in her science and maybe, just maybe, talk to her aunt about what she could do to get through to her friend once again.

Time flew quickly, and Lauren found herself rubbing her tired eyes more than once that evening. But concentrating on something other than Bo was helping, so she once more bent over her microscope, inserting another slide in, when the door to her room opened and her aunt walked in, phone in hand.

Lauren's heart skipped a beat, the scene reminiscent of one from more than a week ago when Bo called, wanting to talk to her friend and share a root beer float with her. "Is it Bo?" she asked hopefully.

"No, it's Trick."

"Trick?" Worried now, Lauren took the offered phone quickly. "Hello?"

"Hi Lauren. I'm sorry to be calling so late. I just wanted to tell you – Bo has left." Trick's voice was quivering. The older man was on the verge of tears.

"What do you mean, she left?" Lauren shouted, jumping off the chair and nearly colliding with her aunt who remained standing by her desk. "Where did she go?"

"I don't know. She left with her mom, I guess."

"How do you know?" Lauren kept probing, refusing to believe Bo would do that.

"She left me a note." Trick murmured.

It was true, then, Lauren thought. Bo had left. "Did she leave me a note?" She asked, subdued. "Did she leave one for Dyson?" She felt tears once again streak down her face and didn't bother to hide them now.

"No." Trick's voice was barely above a whisper.

She was sobbing now, pressing the phone to her chest. Aunt Ashley either heard or guessed what was going on, so she didn't ask any questions, just rubbed gentle circles into Lauren's back. When Lauren had a grip on her emotions again, she brought the phone back to her ear.

"What does your note say, Trick."

She herd through the phone a piece of paper being unfolded and smoothed over.

"It says," he began, every bit as emotional as Lauren, "_Grandpa, I love you. Thank you for everything. I'm leaving with mom. Love, Bo._"

"Have you tried calling her?"

"She left her cell on the top of the note."

Lauren clicked off the phone with numb fingers, and sat it on the desk. Everything, everything was falling apart. There was a noise, like a rushing river, ringing in her ears, black spots were dancing before her eyes, and just before everything went black, there was one last thought. _I think I love her._ And then she fainted.

**To Be Continued...**


	12. Chapter 12

Bo checked the little device she jammed between the windshield and a dashboard. A bright red dot still blinked merrily in front of the one indicating her own vehicle. She didn't tend to use a lot of gadgets in her work, but this one came in handy more than once. With a radius of almost a mile, she was able to track her target vehicle discretely, without the other driver noticing the rather conspicuous tail a bright yellow Camaro convertible. It was maybe the worst possible car to use in surveillance, but she was really partial to the old beast that had served her so well over the years.

Reassured that the white, nondescript van with darkened windows and fake license plate she was following was still just a few hundred yards ahead, she shifted lower in her seat to try to relieve some pressure from her backside. Her left butt cheek had fallen asleep during the long ride, and she cursed the driver of the other car when she felt the tingles running up and down her leg. They've been playing cat and mouse for nearly seven hours now, the other vehicle stopping only once in all that time to fill up on gas. God only knew how much longer they had to go and where they'd end up. Bo tried not to dwell on the unknown and unattainable. She had a job to do, after all – inside that white van was something she'd been hired to retrieve, and retrieve it she will.

Bo was rather good at her job, though most would not have guessed so from a casual glance at her appearance. She drove an old car, lived in rundown houses and dressed as if she shopped at consignment Halloween stores. But unlike the pencil-pushers stuck in ever-shrinking cubicles for the rest of their lives, Bo was doing something she loved, something she was good at, and something that helped people. If it meant she took in four pro-bono cases for every paying one, she didn't let it slow her down.

Though she would often introduce herself as a Private Investigator, the job title was too narrow to describe what Bo did for a living. Sure, PI work accounted for a large part of her assignments, but she did so much more than that – she was an investigator, a fixer, an enforcer, and finder of all manner of lost things. Some of her clients were regulars, but most where desperate souls who walked through her doors looking for a miracle – hoping to find redemption, or peace, a way out, revenge... and once, a staffed black cat that was said to bring luck to its owner – a job that had Bo swear off taxidermy for good.

Bo herself have long ago stopped believing in miracles, redemption or peace. She's been through too much to believe in 'happily ever afters'. Abandoned as an infant into the care of her grandfather, she traded a home and the one stable relationship she had for a chance to get to know her mother. Well, that illusion didn't last long. About a month, to be exact. Two weeks of thinking her mother was a misunderstood genius who was kept away from Bo; followed by two weeks or hard reality reasserting the truth – her mother didn't care about anyone but herself. Once the veil was lifted from Bo's eyes, she considered going back home to her grandfather, who she knew would take her back with open arms, despite the way she left. But her pride got in the way of good judgment and she kept away. The longer she stayed away, the harder it became to go back, and now, 16 years after she drove off without really saying goodbye, the prospect of returning to her hometown seemed more distant than ever.

The quiet stretch of the road they were traversing was giving Bo too much time to think about roads taken – and not. She put a quick stop to the melancholy thoughts by jabbing the Play button on the tape player. The comforting noise of long-familiar songs helped her refocus on the task before her. She drove on, accompanied by a raspy "I'm a red-hot fox, I can take the knocks… I'm a hammer from hell, honey, can't you tell?.. The wild one, yes, she's the wild one..."

x

The van pulled up to the roadside Bar and Grill and parked. Bo drove to the other side of the parking lot and parked behind a pickup that mostly obscured her from view. This was the first promising stop and Bo needed to cease the opportunity now.

Breaking into the van would be relatively easy, but large uncovered windows of the bar would expose her when she tried to move the case her sources were telling her was nestled in a cargo section of the van, along with several other containers. The loot came from a series of robberies that probably fell in the industrial espionage category. Bo didn't know exactly what she would be retrieving, just that it was a refrigeration unit with a built in power supply about three feet long. She was given a device that would read the bar code on the container to identify the one she needed to recover and explicit instruction on what to do if the power indicator on the unit were to turn yellow while in her custody.

Looking around, Bo considered her options for a distraction. The entrance to the bar was on the other side, and the only door facing Bo was propped open with a boot. The door had no markings, so Bo surmised it was a service door. Taking a chance, she poked her head in, spotting a cook and a busboy.

The cook was immersed in his work, but the busboy was leaning against a counter, unhurriedly whipping some glasses with a grimy towel, a bootless right foot tucked behind the left leg.

A quick wave of her fingers was enough to get the young man's attention. When he looked up at her, Bo pressed an index finger to her lips then beckoned the boy before taking a few steps away from the door. As expected, moments later the door swung open, the busboy trying to reclaim his boot and step through the threshold at the same time, no doubt hoping to impress the beautiful woman with his nimble footwork. Smiling coyly, Bo gave the boy her most flirtatious look. A few words and a few flutters of her eyelashes were enough to secure his promise to create two noisy commotions about 5 minutes apart.

She rounded the building and waited for the first of the two disturbances. When it came, starting with a started man's voice shouting "You pinched me?!" and followed by sounds of fists connecting with flesh, she quickly approached the van and set to picking the unexpectedly complicated lock. It took a minute longer than she anticipated, but eventually the locking mechanism clicked open and she stepped into the van, closing the door behind her in case someone should walk by. The sunset glow streaming through the darkened windows was enough to navigate by, and she counted about a dozen cases in the cargo hold. It would only take a minute to find the right case, and she took out the scanner to check the nearest one.

Going methodically from one case to another, Bo was about half way through when a sound of a van's driver-side door opening sent chills down her spine. A moment later the seat cracked when a body dropped into it and the door was shut. Bo checked her watch in disbelief – only eight minutes have passed since the van parked in front of the Bar and Grill – what kind of schedule was this guy on that he couldn't take an hour to eat like a normal person? Protected from the view of the driver by a solid wall, Bo couldn't see a takeout container that now rested on the passenger seat, and but she could smell it. Bloody Hell. If she bailed now, he may hear her, or feel the shift in weight distribution. Even if she managed to get off without alerting the driver, she may not get another opportunity to remove the container. If she stayed… she may be risking her skin for whatever was in it. And this damn container was apparently so important, Mr. Jones was paying her double her typical fee to get it back. This client – her oldest and most frequent one - was a total mystery, which bothered Bo a good deal. He only reached out to her through a different intermediary. These middlemen conducted all negotiations and payoffs, but made sure to always point out that they were hiring her on behalf of Mr. Jones. If pressed, they all could list every assignment that Mr. Jones has ever sent her way, but none of them would tell her anything about the man, and all her considerable efforts to learn his identity thus far were for naught. She knew enough, though, not to want to disappoint him.

Her musings caused her precious seconds in which the driver had shifted gears and pulled out of the lot. In mere moments the van was once again cruising down the highway, destination unknown, containers and stowaway enclosed in its cargo hold.

Bo took a deep sigh and settled in for a ride after finding the container she was sent for. The sucker weighed at least 20 kilos, and if she wanted to come away with it, she would need to negotiate her way out of this mess. If things turned ugly, she had a long knife in her right boot. It would have to do.

They drove on for more than four hours, and when the door to the cargo section was thrown open, Bo was faced with not one, but three thugs. Two drew their guns on her immediately, while the third grabbed and roughly pulled her out of the van. Bo didn't have time to take in much of her surroundings, but she could see that the van pulled up in front of the industrial looking building, probably no longer in use based on the number of broken windows she could see. The building was the length of the street block, and she could see a pole with a street sign at the corner, but was far away to make out what it said.

She was frog-marched inside where they tied her to an office chair with zip ties, after divesting her of the boot knife, scanner and a case with lock-picking tools. She pulled on the zip ties to check how well they held and felt the plastic dig into the flesh of her wrists. She smiled sweetly at her captives, who've yet to say anything. Perhaps it was time for introductions, she decided.

"Guys, this – " she rocked her chair to indicate she was well and fully incapacitated, "isn't necessary."

"Sure it ain't," one of her captives answered, smirking. He picked up a knife they removed from her boot and made a show of testing how sharp it is with a thumb. "'Cause you're such a sweet angel, won't hurt a fly, right?"

"Sweet – yes. Angel – no." Bo winked at the men. She continued to smile amiably, knowing from experience that 'charm and disarm' was a best tactic against armed opponents. And she could tell it was working now – the guns they had trained on her earlier where put away into the holsters.

One of the man tapped another on the shoulder. "Let's go get the cases in." His companion nodded, and together they headed out.

Bo took a moment to look around. The space was wide open, with only a few support beams positioned at equal intervals. The interior looked as gutted and abandoned as the exterior did, and Bo thought it probably housed industrial machinery of some kind at one time, because she could see ventilation tubes and florescent lights strung up under the ceiling. Aside from the chair she was tied to, there was a desk with some papers on it, but no other furniture or boxes. So this was a burner house. A place to do business in once and not come back to again. Her mind was flooding with implications and she made an effort to refocus. The man who had spoken to her earlier walked over to the desk and was leafing through some papers.

Bo cleared her throat to get his attention. "You know, it's obvious you have something I want." He looked up at her, curious where she was going with that. "Perhaps I have something you want…" The man leered at her and "Not that!" she hastened to clarify. The man smirked in response, making it clear he wasn't taking her offer seriously.

At that moment his two companions walked in with two containers each and deposited them in a corner. "All good?" one of them, the one who drove the van, asked the man Bo was speaking to. Getting a nod in response, they left to retrieve the rest of the containers.

Bo tried to reestablish the conversation. "Look, I'm sure you are getting paid handsomely for this job. And if money is what moves you, I can make it worth your while to part with just one of the cases – one specific case, to be exact. If it's not money – tell me what it is. I can make it happen, regardless."

She didn't put much stock in them accepting her offer. For guys like them, non-delivery could mean a bullet to the head, and their fear of people who hired them outweighed their greed more times than not. But she kept talking because her voice was helping to drown out the tiny squeaking of the screw (which she pulled out of the back the chair using her thumbnails as a screwdriver) as it seesawed across the plastic of the zip ties binding her wrists. A few more minutes, and she hoped to be one step closer to freedom. Tough how she was going to manage that remained a mystery, Bo was a big fan of Napoleon's two-part battle plan: First we show up, then we see what happens.

Before the man who was guarding her could formulate a response, his two follows walked in with another arm load of cases.

"That's the last of it." One of the men said, whipping at his forehead.

The boxes were neatly stacked against one wall, and Bo strained to see if she can pinpoint the one she marked earlier with a smudge of lipstick, after finding it with a scanner her employer supplied her with. But either the container was turned in such a way that the side she marked faced the wall, or the men found and removed her mark, because the bright red of her lipstick would have been easily visible on the eggshell colored plastic of the container.

The disappointment of not seeing the mark was tempered by a flood of relief when the zip ties broke, leaving her hands free. The tiny pop of the plastic breaking had thankfully gone unnoticed, and Bo was very careful not to betray the change to her captives.

"Should we call the boss to see how he wants to handle this situation?" One of the man asked his companions, motioning at Bo. Bo couldn't suppress a reflexive swallow, knowing the 'situation' they were referring to was her. "There are vents here in the walls that are big enough to hold the body." He continued calmly, and Bo automatically looked at several ventilation cover grates in the wall she was facing. They did look big enough to hold her body.

"Guys, let's not be hasty." Bo attempted to slow down her impending doom. "I'm sure we can come to an understanding if…" A loud crashing sound interrupted her, and it took everyone a moment to realize it was coming from the doorway. It was obvious that no one was expecting company, but when five men with guns drawn came through the door, everyone started to shout all at once.

"Put the guns down!"

"What the fuck?!"

"Get down!"

"You put your fucking gun down!"

"I'm not taking orders from you!"

"I don't believe this!"

"Shut up! Everybody shut up!"

Bo wasn't sure what triggered it, but a single shot rang out first, followed a moment later by a salvo of flying led. She dove for the only cover she could think of, but before she could reached a stack of containers, she felt a sharp bite in her left thigh that dropped her in mid-lunge. She looked down to see a steady flow of blood pulsing out of the wound in her leg and felt almost dizzy from the sight alone. A man was lying in a floor next to her, obviously wounded, but still shooting back. Another had noticed him and fired several rounds into his chest. Some were using the beams for cover, and all have obviously plenty of ammunition, firing with abandon.

Bo thought it most prudent to get as far away from crossfire as she could. She crawled the rest of the way towards the containers and wedged herself in the space between them and the wall. It wouldn't work for long, since the newcomers were obviously there for the same reason she was, and not as any kind of rescue attempt.

Well, she would just rescue herself, she decided, noticing that one of the ventilation shafts was positioned just above her in the wall, hidden from the rest by the stack of containers. It had a grate cover, like the rest of the vents, and studied the bots that had kept it in place. The bolts were far too large to unscrew with her nails, but now that her hands were free, she had other implements at her disposal. Quickly ripping out a button from her jeans, she set to work on the rusty bolts. Adrenaline and natural strength aided in her task, and she had 3 of the 4 bolts holding the cover in place removed. The cover swung down on the last bolt with a squeak, but other either didn't hear or didn't care. Pulling herself into a round tube about a foot off the ground with one leg virtually paralyzed was easier than re-securing one of bolts to fix the cover back in place once she was in, but Bo had managed.

She stilled when the shooting had stopped abruptly, hopping that she had wiggled deep enough down the tube not to be noticed.

"Get the containers!" Someone yelled, and almost immediately someone had grabbed several of them off the stack.

"What about the girl?" Asked the same man.

"Probably ran off. Don't matter, we got what we came for." Another answered, grabbing the next two containers. Bo didn't recognize any of the voices, so she assumed that her original captives have been taken out by the newcomers. This was unlucky for her, her chances of ever recovering the container she was hired to bring back dropping every time it changed hands. But if she can make out of this place alive, she'll keep looking. Bo wasn't a quitting sort.

But she was, apparently, a fainting sort. Her wound continued to bleed, unabated, and Bo realized she must have passed out for some time, because when she came to, many voices echoed around the empty space of the interior and they sounded like cops talking. She concentrated and heard someone nearby comment on the scanner she had used to find the right container.

"Check it out, Serg. This little device scans and transmits its location. I think we just figured out how the second group of perps was able to find the first group and whatever they stored in here."

"Still doesn't explain why these local guys would get into a firefight with a bunch of out-of-towners less than half an hour after they get here." Another, gruffer voice answered. "Keep looking, guys, we are missing something here."

The voice sounded vaguely familiar to Bo, something dancing in the recesses of her memory just out of reach. She gave up trying to place it after a moment, more interested in picking up any information she could on the men that had left with her container. Most voices were further away from her, and she could only pick occasional words, but the two man closest to her were pretty legible.

"There is a blood splatter here that doesn't seem to belong to any of the dead. And it doesn't continue towards the exit. You think they carried this guy out?" the gruff voice asked, and Bo had no trouble hearing him at all, since he was standing just outside of her vent.

"No way he could have walked away after losing this much blood. I'll check with EMTs" his partner said and moved away. Bo tried to suppress a shiver. This was likely her blood that they were looking at, and knowing there was a puddle of it in the tube that was probably larger than the one on the floor was making her lightheaded. Or the blood loss was making her lightheaded. Either way, she needed to find a way to deal with this wound soon.

The man with the gruff voice remained by the vent, presumably still looking at the blood splatter. From across the large space someone shouted "Hey Dyson, the techs are here to pick up the van."

A bolt of recognition hit Bo squarely between the eyes. Dyson – of course! That's why the voice was familiar. What were the odds she'd ever run into him?

"Yeah, let them take it." Dyson answered distractedly, still nearly an arm's reach away from Bo.

Quickly getting over her shock, Bo's mind whirled with a new set of choices. Take her chances with Dyson or wait until the cops leave? Processing a scene with multiple fatalities could take hours; did she have that kind of time with an open wound? How would Dyson react to her? Will he even recognize her after 16 years of no contact?

The numbness in her leg made the choice easier. She twisted her head to see if Dyson was alone near the hatch, but could only see a part of the space. Hear heart beating franticly in her chest, she made her move.

"Pss. Dyson." She hissed, and waited, but there was no response. So she tried again, a little louder. "Pss. Dyson. Dyson!" That seemed to have worked, because suddenly the light from the hatch was cut off, and Bo saw a shape of head as the owner peered into the tube. She couldn't tell if it was Dyson, since he was blocking the only source of light, but she had to take a chance. "Dyson, it's Bo – Bo McCorrigan, from Sacred High?"

"Bo?" Dyson repeated, confusion and uncertainty clear in his voice.

This was the most dangerous moment. She needed to communicate to Dyson that she couldn't be exposed to the cops, and that she needed his help, before anyone else saw him talking into the ventilation hatch.

"Dyson, please, can you get me out of here without alerting your friends?" she whispered, straining to keep her head turned towards the opening, hoping that even if she couldn't see him, he could see enough to read the pleading in her eyes.

Someone from another part of the room must have noticed Dyson's odd behavior, and called to him. "Hey, Serg, do you see something in there? Need an evidence bag?"

Dyson turned away quickly, allowing the light to return to a portion of the space in front of Bo.

"No, nothing there but dust and mice droppings." He answered, lying smoothly. "I think maybe we should wrap it up for tonight. The CSI unit got samples of everything, and we're not going to solve this tonight." He offered casually, knowing that he didn't have the authority to ask various techs gathering and photographing evidence to leave, even though he was a senior detective on the scene. None of the others reported to him.

"You have a hot date tonight, Serg?" The man teased. Then he added more seriously "You know, all these vents could be a perfect hiding place for god only knows what. We should strip this place, just to be sure."

"Yeah, we should." Dyson agreed with the man. "I'll post the security detail here tonight, and tomorrow we'll come back and open all the walls and all the vents." He spoke a bit louder than usual, making sure everyone heard him. He reached for a radio on his belt and clicked it on. "Dispatch, I need two uniforms," he rattled off the address of the building and got an affirmative. Clapping his hands together, he made sure to get everyone's attention. "Security is in the way, let's wrap it up for tonight folks." He injected as much authority into his voice as he dared, knowing that most people didn't mind following orders if they thought the person giving them had authority to do so.

One by one they packed up and left, and only 10 minutes later Dyson was the only one left on the floor. He sent his partner away, promising to watch the place until the security detail showed up. Quickly moving back to the vent, the removed the two bolts holding the cover in place and reached in.

"Give me your hand, I'll pull you out."

Bo did as instructed, and in one pull she was half out. Before Dyson could pull again, she stopped him.

"Wait, my leg is bleeding, I don't want to add to the blood on the floor."

Dyson swore quietly. Bo was right – if the blood spatter looked different tomorrow, there will be questions. "OK, hang on." He left her clinging to the wall while he sprinted to his car, returning moments later with a plastic bag, a blanket and duct tape. "Where is the wound?" he asked, and with her help he wrapped first the bag then the blanket around it, securing both with duct tape until he was reasonably sure she would not bleed on the floor. Bo herself was surprised to note that her leg no longer bled as much as it did initially, but the pain and numbness were enough to keep her more that concerned, regardless.

Dyson picked her up effortlessly and headed out of the room. She protested mildly, not liking to depend on anyone for anything, but Dyson shushed her. "The security team will be here any minute, and if they catch me taking you out of the crime scene, my career will be over. Not sure what will happen to you – I'm sure you had a good reason not to be seen there with all those dead thugs for hire."

Bo grumbled, but let herself be carried to the car, where Dyson put her in the back seat, elevating her wounded leg. "Stay here until I'm back. Don't make a sound." He cautioned, before pulling another blanket over her, hiding most of her from view. He grabbed a small canister with hydrochloric acid from the trunk where he kept it to help remove rust from tools and a few rugs. It wasn't the best way to clean up the blood in the vent where Bo had been hiding, but it was the best he had available. Holding a flashlight between his teeth he crawled into the vent, finding it very cramped for his larger body. He poured the acid on the pool of blood and used the rugs to soak up as much as of it as he could. When he heard a patrol car pulling up to the entrance, he hastily wiggled out of the vent, stuffing the rags in a plastic bag, putting it against his stomach and zipping his jacket over it. Dyson was a fit man, but now he looked like someone with a considerable beer belly. He hoped that the patrolmen sent to guard the building until the morning were not someone he knew, or he wouldn't get away with it.

But luck was on his side that night, and two officers didn't know him. They gave him all the respect his detective badge afforded him, though, and Dyson only needed a few moments to issue orders before he was free to return to his car, where Bo waited.

When he slid into the driver's seat, he pulled the bag from under the jacket and threw it on the floor. It smelled of acid and blood, and he wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible. He put the car and gear and pulled out, waving at the two officers keeping watch, but not acknowledging Bo until he was a few blocks away.

When he felt safe, he reached back, pulling the blanked that was covering Bo. "Hang in there, we'll be at the Hospital in less than 10 minutes," he assured her.

"No, no hospitals. Please, Dyson." Bo pleaded, even though she knew the wound was serious. "You know they have to report the gun wounds."

"Well, what else is there?" Dyson asked, exasperated. What kind of trouble was Bo in that she would forgo a medical care with bullet wound to the leg? "It's not going to heal on its own, you know."

"I'll take care of it. Just get me to some place… A motel, anything, and I'll take care of it." Bo tried to assure him.

Dyson looked back and saw how pale she was, saw the sheen of sweat that on her face and estimated she wasn't in any shape to deal with a bullet wound. "I'll take you somewhere safe, with medical equipment and someone to fix you up."

"Dyson," Bo tried to reason with the man, but had very little leverage at the moment.

"Trust me, I like this option a lot less than dropping you off at the hospital, but…" He stopped, unable or unwilling to finish. "Just trust me," he repeated, knowing she's going to hate this a lot less than he will.

They pulled up in front of a large building just a few minutes later, and Bo could see it was a Medical Examiner's office. She wondered why Dyson had brought her to a city morgue while he left to find a wheelchair for her. Still, this place would have medical equipment, at least, she mused.

Dyson returned with a wheel chair, and after almost passing out while he moved her out of the car, she was glad to be seated and not having to move anymore. The pain was unbearable now, and she fought it the best she could, not paying any attention to where Dyson was taking her.

When they reached a well-lit room, he stopped and greeted the other room's occupant who was already there when they arrived.

"Hello Lauren, you wouldn't believe who I ran into to today."


	13. Chapter 13

Bo stared at Lauren, pain temporarily pushed back to the back of her mind. Lauren grown up. Lauren with a hint of lip-gloss. Lauren in a white lab coat over a crisp white shirt and black slacks. Lauren grown up, and so very different from the awkward teenager, yet so strangely familiar. Lauren grown up, but with those same kind, intelligent eyes. Lauren grown up but still shy, dropping her gaze under Bo's scrutiny.

Bo's eyes traced the strong line of Lauren's jaw to where it melted into the soft curve of her cheek, watching with amusement as it turned pink, then crimson in mere seconds. She marveled at how expressive Lauren looked, even when standing still and silent. And beautiful. Slender, with narrow hips and that same corn-yellow hair curling slightly just below her shoulder blades.

Unbidden, a quiet "wow" passed through Bo's dry lips, but to everyone else in the room it must have sounded more like a whimpered "ow", because suddenly Dyson was sliding into her view while inadvertently blocking out Lauren, scooping her up out of the wheelchair and depositing her on a nearby autopsy table. The jarring movement reminded her of the gaping wound in her leg, and this time a real "owww!" tore through her throat.

Lauren, too, had sprung into action, moving a tray with medical instruments to her side and snapping on a pair of sterile gloves. The first tool she picked up was a pair of scissors, and without asking permission or saying anything, she started cutting off Bo's pants to expose the wound.

Lauren was moving on autopilot. Seeing Bo after all those years was like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart, and she didn't trust herself at the moment to say anything, lest she blabber like a complete idiot. It was safer just to act or, in this case, react to the trauma case before her. Going into her doctor mode, she tried to concentrate on treatment and ignore the patient.

But Bo wasn't having it. "Uh, Lauren, I know this is the ME's office and not a hospital, and this -" she pointed to the hard, cold and bare surface of the slab she was laying on, "is an autopsy table and not a hospital gurney, but you do" she emphasized the last word – do "know I'm a live patient, right?"

Startled to be addressed directly, and not sure how to answer, Lauren darted her eyes at Dyson and then at Bo, trying to find something reasonable to say in response. Dyson looked back at her cheekily, a telltale smirk on his face a clear sign of his amusement at her discomfort. He wouldn't be any help, per usual. Bo too looked amused, but her expression was softer, not challenging, despite her words, and it helped ease Lauren's anxiety levels.

"Yes, my corpses usually don't question my methods, or say 'ow', so it's safe to assume I will not forget you are a live patient." Lauren said, smiling down at Bo and feeling years fall away, until they were two teenagers again, teasing each out about their lunch choices or something equally innocuous.

"And you've treated gunshot wounds before?" Bo pushed, not because she didn't trust Lauren, but to try to extract a bit of the blonde woman's history.

But good humor or not, Lauren didn't feel compelled to list her credentials at the moment, fearing that sharing any part of herself, or her past, would somehow leave her vulnerable. So she opted for basic facts.

"Yes, I'm a fully accredited physician, and I've treated a verity of injuries, including gunshot wounds."

"You can trust her with a scalpel," Dyson piped in, "but her bedside manners could use some improvements." He looked up at Lauren, ignoring the scowl that she could not keep off her face at his jab. "What do you say, Doc, is it safe to get some blankets under Bo before you get started?"

"Of course." Lauren grumbled, heading for a cabinet to retrieve some blankets and sheets.

When she returned, arms full of folded layers of coverings, Dyson lifted Bo, giving Lauren some clearance. Quickly she laid down several blankets, then a plastic sheet, followed by a bed sheet. As soon as she was done, Dyson lowered Bo back down. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you," Bo smiled up at her once-boyfriend. Dyson have aged well, she noticed. He wore a beard now, and his hair was a bit thinner, but still blond and curly, just like when he was a teenager. He still had the athletic build, but was broader in chest and shoulders, though the added bulk was all muscle. His eyes were just as blue as she remembered, twinkling with equal parts mischief and gentle humor. The lines on his face were deeper, giving him more character, and more appeal –the crow's feet around his eyes, the crinkle between his eyebrows, the lines around his lips – there were the imprints of live lived fully and with abandon.

Conscious of Bo's scrutiny – Bo's gaze felt almost tangible –Dyson thought that a little of his own gawking would be tolerated just then. Bo really haven't changed all that much. Her hair was longer now, and she wore her make up differently – heavy eyeliner brining out her eyes more than when she was a teenager, but she still had a look of fun-loving, care-free, sweet girl he fell in love with.

A little caught up in the moment, Dyson was startled by a phone ringing on his belt. He was the on-call detective that week, so when the number on the display read 'dispatch', he knew he was being summoned. Taking a few steps away from the two women to get some privacy, he answered the call.

Lauren was watching Bo's frank appraisal of Dyson with some uneasiness while she continued to cut away at the blood covered clothing around the wound. That task completed, she did a quick visual examination, then took an x-ray with a portable unit. The image needed only seconds to process and render on her computer screen, so by the time she rounded her desk, it was ready. She peered at it carefully, and was very pleased to see no visible bullet or bone debris. The bullet had passed a few inches from the femur, and though she wouldn't know the kind of tissue and blood vessel damage it caused, this alone bode well for Bo's speedy recovery.

She returned to Bo's bed side just as Dyson's phone rang. He stepped away, breaking the shared moment, and Bo turned to face her, one elegant eyebrow raised in question.

"It looks good so far, but I need to operate to repair the damage." Lauren comforted. She turned away to get a new pair of gloves and a few other supplies she would need for the surgery, missing Bo's intense look now directed back at her.

Bo was once again caught up with watching Lauren, having never seen this side of her - moving about confidently and with purpose. She felt torn between wanting to watch Lauren and trying to eavesdrop on the conversation Dyson was having, hoping to gain tidbits of information that could get her back in the hunt for the medical container that has now changed hands three times in three days. But the conversation was over quickly and she heard nothing useful.

"I need to leave now." Dyson announced as soon as he disconnected the call. "Another homicide, and I'm on-call." He walked over to the row of cabinets, familiar with most of the tools that were stored in this office, and retrieved a box of wipes, a handful of plastic slides and two evidence bags. Stepping back to Bo's side, he swiped both her hands before she was able to protest, and dropped the wipes into an evidence bag, sealing it and notating its contents.

"There is no gunshot residue on my hands," Bo griped, having guessed what the wipes were for.

"I need to be sure." Dyson responded, not unkindly. Next, he pressed a plastic slide to each of Bo's fingers on her right hand, making sure to get a good imprint, and sealed them in the second bag. This time Bo didn't protest, but she pulled her hand away as soon as he was done, eyeing him narrowly. Unperturbed, Dyson gripped both bags under one arm, moved to the foot of the bed, and suddenly attached a handcuff to her ankle (choosing her uninjured leg, thankfully). The other cuff he secured to the slit in the table for drainage.

"Hey, what's that for?" Bo protested, indignant at being cuffed to the autopsy table.

"I'm sorry, Bo, but I'm already risking my career, and more, for getting you out of the crime scene." Dyson explained, patiently. "You are – at worst – an accomplice, at best – a material witness to a major crime, and I need to have you stay close until the investigation is completed."

"Dyson, wait, I'll need to turn her over to close the exit wound!" It was Lauren's turn to protest.

Already half way to the door, Dyson turned back to face the women. "Lauren, improvise," he instructed. "Bo, I'll see you later!" When he reached the threshold, he stopped and turned back once more. "Lauren, say Hi to Evony for me."

"Will do." Lauren promised, her face sullen.

Bo picked up on the little exchange, knowing Dyson made a dig of some kind that Lauren was unhappy about. She started to wonder who this Evony was, and who she was to Lauren specifically, then she wondered if that's precisely what Dyson was trying to achieve with his parting comment. Deciding she wouldn't play into his hands, she bit off the questions that danced on the tip of her tongue, deciding instead to deal with a different issue.

"Hand me a paperclip, please" She pointed to the organizer on Lauren's desk. One section clearly held a handful of paperclips.

Lauren snapped off her gloves, handed Bo a clip, then reached for a new pair. Bo was sitting up, and Lauren rushed to get her to stop moving, but Bo waved her off. "Just give me a minute, doc." She unbent a part of the paperclip, then twisted it in two places, forming two small loops. Inserting the reshaped clip into the keyhole in the handcuff, she twisted until the locking mechanism opened, releasing her ankle. Throwing the cuffs aside with scorn, Bo stretched back on the autopsy table.

"Do your thing, doc." She said, looking up at her childhood friend, small smile playing on her lips.

Lauren nodded, and held up a small needle with a line already attached. "This is an anesthetic, it's mild, but you'll be much more comfortable if I administer it before we begin, OK?" She waited for the go ahead and carefully inserted the needle into the vein. "Just a few minutes before it takes effect." She promised, but Bo was already blinking sleepily.

Satisfied that the medicine was already working, though it would need a little longer to circulate through the bloodstream for full effect, Lauren proceeded to cut away the pants and the shirt. Both were marred in dried blood and would irritate Bo's skin is left on for much longer. She worked quietly, removing both garments carefully, until Bo was left in nothing but her underwear. Though she was fully in the doctor mode, somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was working on a friend, and that awareness was causing her thoughts to shift from purely medical ones. That was the reason the doctors were not generally allowed to operate on their friends and loved ones – they lost the impartiality that was otherwise ingrained into them in med school.

Grabbing another blanket from the cabinet so she could lay it over Bo to make her more comfortable in the room that was kept cool for autopsies, Lauren had allowed her gaze to linger on Bo's body for a bit longer than was strictly necessary. Unbidden, her lips parted and a soft "You're beautiful" slipped through them.

Bo's eyes flattered opened, their gaze locking for just a second. Lauren was startled, having assumed that Bo would be well on her way to a drug-induced sleep by now. She swallowed nervously, wondering if Bo would comment, but the brunette's eyes fell closed again after only a second. With shaking fingers, Lauren placed the blanket over her friend, then attached the blood pressure cuff and the oxygen monitor. All indicators showed that drugs should be having full effect now. Satisfied, she proceeded with repairing the damage done by the bullet.

x

Groggy and thirsty, Bo came to some indeterminate amount of time later. Her wounded leg felt numb, and when she reached out to touch it she felt a bandage covering her thigh. She turned her head looking for Lauren, and found her just a few feet away, studying something intently through a microscope. Still a geek, Bo thought, smiling.

"Hey," she called out, startling the ME.

"You're awake!" Lauren beamed, raising and approaching her patient. She took Bo's blood pressure and pulse, asked about her pain level, checked to make sure the dressing was holding and let out a satisfied sigh when everything checked out.

Bo allowed all the pocking and prodding, content to let Lauren conduct her exam, relaxed and maybe still a little loopy from the anesthesia. She wouldn't have even realized she had spoken aloud, if it wasn't for Lauren's reaction.

"Who is Evony?"

The words hung in the air between them, potent and perilous.

It took a few moments for Lauren to respond. A few moments in which she revealed more about the relationship than she ever intended. "She's a Chief Medical Examiner, she's my boss." Lauren replied tersely.

"I see." Bo exhaled, looking away from the blonde. She didn't know what surprised and bothered her more – that Lauren accomplished so little with her life that she was working as a Medical Examiner; or that she was obviously sleeping with her boss, which meant they would have to hide the relationship from practically everyone to avoid being fired. The picture of Lauren's life that was forming in her mind looked bleak.

Noting the brooding look in Bo's eyes and wanting desperately to change the subject, Lauren thought it was long past due she informed her charge of her condition. "You were pretty lucky the bullet missed the bone and femoral artery, but it went through the great saphenous vein and some small arteries, and you lost a lot of blood. I had to transfuse you."

"You have a lot of blood bags laying around in the autopsy room? I thought most of your charges came here devoid of blood." She asked, sitting up on the table. She was being snarky, she knew, but just couldn't help it at the moment. The earlier revelation was unsettling her, and Lauren was a convenient target.

Lauren winced, taking a step back from her patient. Bo's words and the hardness of her eyes stung in a way that was more physical than emotional. Gone was the quiet humor of their earlier interaction. The Bo who looked at her now wasn't the girl who introduced her to friends and fed her free burgers and root beer floats. Instead she was facing a version of Bo that had pushed her away and then left everyone behind for 16 long years.

Lauren took a deep breath and tried to let the hurt wash over her. She too wasn't that broken girl anymore who cried for nights on end over a best friend's leaving. She'd seen much suffering and experience a fair share herself, and somewhere along the way she learned how to put that childhood pain in proper perspective.

Yet, it didn't mean that she'd let anyone, list of all _this_ woman, make her feel small again. The walls she had erected over her heart in full force, she looked back and the brunette coldly. If Bo intended to mock her work, she would not tell her that transfused blood came from a supply of artificial blood she had on hand for research and testing. Or that, feeling the pressure of time, she had to design a way to turn the generic stock into Bo's type A+ in about half the time the process would usually take and succeeded. She wouldn't tell Bo about the intricate way she patched up the blood vessels, or how she used microfibers to stich the skin to make sure the scars would be nearly invisible.

"You came to me, Bo." Lauren said calmly, though her insides were churning. "Maybe you didn't know who would be treating you when Dyson rolled you in this office, but you didn't protest when I informed you I will operate. So you can say 'Thank you, Lauren, for taking care of me' or you can take your business elsewhere."

Not looking forward to Bo's eventual reply, Lauren turned her body and her gaze away from the woman on the table. '_Ha!_' she thought resentfully, 's_ee, I can do snarky too!_'

Bo's reaction to being pushed was to push back twice as hard. Never mind that she started the pissing contest. Now that it was on, she wasn't going to let anyone beat her.

"That's fine, Doc, I'm sure you have a freezer full of cadavers to prep for the gutting." Bo didn't even try to hide her scorn.

Just then the office phone rang on Lauren's desk and ME hurried to get it. "Yes, sure, I'll buzz you in." She pressed a button on the phone to release the entrance lock, then sat down at the computer and started typing rapidly. She steadfastly ignored the woman sitting on the autopsy bed, and was glad that she did not offer any more comments. After a minute, the printer on the counter came to life and a few sheets of paper came out just as the door to the autopsy room opened admitting an older man in a cotton shirt with rolled up sleeves and a bag under one arm.

"Trick?" Bo sounded just as young as she suddenly felt. She ran her eyes over his face, but to her dismay found that she was unable to concentrate on any feature. It was as if her adult mind was not capable of accepting the aged features, and instead insisted on replacing them with those of the grandfather she knew growing up. She gave up after a minute, deciding that she didn't need to catalog the differences. She just needed a hug.

Trick must have read it in her eyes, because in the next moment he was enveloping his grown up granddaughter in a bear hug, feeling her tremble and sob into his shoulder.

Lauren watched the display from her desk, memories of her own despair at finding out that Bo left town resurfacing. As if remembering they were not alone in the room, Trick and Bo separated, looking in her direction sheepishly.

Lauren returned Trick's gaze, still ignoring Bo. She picked up the pages off the printer and walked over to the pair, intent on providing a crisp report. "One of the things that worked in Bo's favor when she was shot, is that her blood clotted unusually fast. A bullet did a lot of damage and blood loss could have been lethal under normal circumstances. But Bo's clotting factors where twice as high as they should have been. I've administered a blood thinner when I transfused, but I'm afraid the condition is serious and needs to be managed. I recommend checking blood INR every tree weeks for at least 6 months. I've printed a list of anticoagulation clinics in the city that can administer the test and provide the necessary medication." She handed Trick the printed sheets.

Trick accepted the pages automatically, looking a little pale all of the sudden. "And INR is..?" he asked faintly.

"A measure of coagulation." Lauren supplied. Relieved of the papers, she stuck her hands in the pockets of her lab coat. "I have the information on that and most commonly used drugs in there too." She explained, nodding at the pages clutched in Trick's hand. "Bo's wound needs to be cleaned and re-dressed daily. Other than that, she's good to go. The pain killers I've administered will wear off in a couple of hours, you should probably get something for later. Over-the-counter stuff will do." Lauren concluded her report, still looking only at Trick. "I'll let you get reacquainted. Call if you need anything." She nodded in general direction of both, then turned and left the office, closing the door behind her.

"What was that about?" Trick asked, still looking at the door that Laure just walked out of.

"Another time." Bo hedged, not wanting to get into or even think about her fight she had with Lauren just prior to Trick's arrival. She had enough on her mind just dealing with the situation she was in now. Should she apologize? Should she ask Trick how he's been all these years? Or should she run – dressed as she was, just as long as she didn't have to look at her grandfather and think about all the pain she must have caused him by leaving the way she did.

Trick, for his part, had accepted the answer without protest. He handed Bo the bag he brought in. "Brought you some things from home so you have something to wear. I'll wait outside." He patted her on the arm, looking at her with his signature crooked smile.

Bo clenched her teeth, unnerved by the easy acceptance. Trick wasn't one to hold a grudge, but shouldn't he at least be a little mad? And how did he know to bring her new clothes?

"Trick, how did you know where I was?" She stopped him before he reached the door.

"Dyson called me, told me what happened." Bo looked surprised, and Trick hastened to amend the statement. "He told me _some_ of what happened. I'm sure he withheld a lot of information – such as why he brought you here to treat a bullet wound instead of a hospital." He tried to appease his granddaughter, holding his hands in front of him, palms out.

Satisfied for the moment, Bo looked at the clothes Trick brought her. "Just give me a moment." She mumbled distractedly, recognizing her old things. Trick must have kept at least some of her things, it would seem.

She dressed quickly, feeling a bit uncomfortable in her old things, as if it was skin that didn't fit her anymore. She once again felt the urge to run, but she had too much unfinished business here. Swinging her legs off the table, she tested her wounded leg to see if it would support her. A shot of pain persuaded her to use the wheel chair for just a little longer.

"Trick!" She called out.

He returned immediately, but choked up for second at seeing Bo in her old shirt and jeans.

"Help me with a chair." Bo asked, ignoring the look she was getting from Trick. If she had any doubt about being missed by this man, it would have vanished then.

Bo didn't pretest when Trick drove her back to her childhood home without asking, too worn out emotionally. She got to her room with the help of her grandfather and fell asleep in her old bed as soon as her head hit the pillow. Time for apologies, questions, and hard truths would come later.

x

Bo awoke to the smell of eggs and bacon, disoriented at fist to find herself in surroundings that were familiar yet nothing like the place where she had woken up for the last eight months. The dull throbbing in her thigh facilitated the return of memories from the previous day, and she hobbled to the bathroom as fast as the leg would let her, thankfully reaching the sink in time to throw up.

She rinsed out her mouth and brushed her teeth twice, both to rid her mouth of the acidic aftertaste of her bile and to postpone the maneuvering that would have to be done to lower herself onto the toilet seat to pee. She tried squatting by holding on to the counter, but the pain in her leg increased tenfold as soon as she bent her knee even a little. Not for the first time she felt envious of men's ability to pee standing up.

Later, seated at the breakfast table with Trick scurrying around, she felt right with the world as she hasn't in a long time.

"Has Dyson called?" she enquired after pushing the empty breakfast plate away.

"Yes. Told me to keep an eye on you and asked that you call him."

"Anything else?" Bo fished, wondering if Dyson mentioned cuffing her to autopsy table. Trick just shrugged, so she assumed he hasn't. "Mind dialing him for me?" Trick grabbed the phone, neither of them mentioning how strange it was that Trick was the one who had Dyson's number.

Dyson answered on the third ring, obviously from the station, though they called him on the cell phone. "Detective Wolfs speaking."

"Dyson, it's Bo. Come by Trick's later, we should talk."

"Will do." He responded neutrally before closing the connection.

Looking at the screen that had gone dark, Bo tried in vain to classify and organize her feelings about the upcoming conversation. Whichever way it went, it would be painless, she thought desperately. Was she ready for it?

Her internal struggle must have been plain on her face, because Trick abandoned the Irish Whiskey Cake batter he was mixing and came to sit with her.

"Are you thinking of leaving again?" He asked straight out.

"I… " Bo didn't know how to explain the war she was fighting internally. There was a long pause while she tried to come up with something that was both true and yet not the whole story. "Things are complicated here." She finally said, looking down, away from the gentle eyes of her grandfather.

"I understand, and I won't try to stop you, but please remember that this is your home and there are people here who love you."

Bo wondered if Trick used the word 'people' to imply that Dyson still had feelings for her, or for some other reason. He never had trouble saying 'I love you' when she was young.

Bo remained silent, and Trick took it as a good sign. Trying to press his advantage, he added "Dyson, Lauren and me – we just found you, we can't lose you again."

"I was never lost, Trick." She retorted. Trick looked back at her incredulously. "What?" She spread her arms, a picture of innocence. "I always knew where I was!"

Trick looked as if he seriously considered putting his full-grown granddaughter over his knee and spanking her. He's never done it, and only gave her the look when she was a total brat. Which was certainly the case now, Bo had to admit.

Dropping the attitude, she put her hand over one of Trick's. "Gramps, I didn't come back here by choice. It was part work and part dumb luck, but maybe it was meant to be." She thought about how she parted ways with Dyson and Lauren – both 16 years ago, and again, just yesterday, neither memory a pleasant one. "I'll talk to Dyson, and if he agrees to work with me, I'll stay. For a little while, anyway."

Thinking that she'd dealt with enough emotions by breakfast and that Trick's famous Irish Whiskey Cake would get done quicker without her distracting presence in the kitchen, Bo excused herself back to her room. She needed to get her things sent over either way, so she tackled this first. It wouldn't take long - all her possessions could be packed in just a few boxes. Her car, too, would not be difficult to retrieve. It was probably still parked by the diner. Delivery arranged, she turned her attention to her latest assignment.

There were some things that were not adding up about the case. Firstly, there was a problem with the theft that started her manhunt. The men that held Bo captive were regular thugs, not the type of people who could pull off a sophisticated, high-tech theft from that medical research facility. Bo scouted the place and saw for herself the biometric scanners and three-step verification that was required for entry. When Bo was hired to track down the lost materials, she could find nothing on the thieves, and didn't pick up the trail until the goods were in the hands of the lesser criminals, who were obviously hired for transport services only. So, who were they delivering to?

Secondly, there was a question of who hired the second team and how did they find them so quickly. That second team came in just minutes after the cases were brought into the dilapidated building, and they knew enough to expect a gun fight. Bo concentrated and remembered a snippet of conversation she overheard while stuck in the vent – about the scanner that she used to find the right box in the van. Someone said it had the ability to transmit its location. That may have been how they were found so quickly. But she got the scanner from the people who hired her to retrieve the container, so why would they hire her, then send in an armed team to take the stuff by force? It was possible her employer didn't trust her to succeed, even though she'd never let him down before, and was setting her up to be killed along with the first team. Deep in thought, she remained in the room until Trick came to get her at dinner time.

x

Much later, after the sun had set, after dinner which included an outstanding Irish Whiskey Cake, after Trick had gone to tend the bar for the after-work crowd, and after Bo had settled down in front of the TV with a glass of red, the bottle placed conveniently nearby, a knock on the door announced Dyson's arrival.

He looked tired, and Bo considered for a moment offering him some of Trick's cake and a glass of Bourbon, but decided against it when the man reached out for her wine glass, uninvited, and drained it in one gulp.

"Sure, do help yourself to my wine and anything else you like, asshole." Bo said, eyeing him narrowly from the couch.

Dyson just gave her the look that said 'What else you're offering?' that she easily recognized from their teenage days.

Bo snorted in response. "As if!" she snatched her glass back and refilled it, holding both the glass and the bottle close and daring Dyson to try for either again.

"What if I offered the wear the handcuffs this time?" Dyson tried playfully.

Bo gave it a moment of thought. "OK," she said, clearly surprising Dyson with agreement.

Another man may have assumed the offer was genuine, but Dyson knew Bo well, back when they were young, and had no trouble detecting an edge in her tone that did not bode well for him. Getting the clear message to keep his hands off of her for the foreseeable future, Dyson decided that retreat was the only smart move left, and did just that by sitting himself across from Bo and changing the topic.

"Tell me about the shooting. How did you end up in that building?" He opened his jacket and produced a notepad and a pen.

Bo had spent a lot of time thinking about how much she should tell Dyson, knowing this question was inevitable. In the end, she decided that none of her actions were unlawful in this case (a little breaking and entering, trespassing and blackmail notwithstanding). She shared most of what took place, including her theory that the second group had been hired by the same people who hired her, and that they found them thanks to the GPS transmitter in the scanner. The only thing she withheld was the name of her employer.

Dyson listened attentively and took copious notes. When she finished, he reached for his briefcase and pulled out a stack of pictures. They were photographs of men who were killed in the shootout, taken in autopsy. "Tell me which bodies belong to the first group who transported the medical materials, and which ones to the group who had came in later."

Bo studied the photographs briefly – the men's faces were burnt into her eyes, and it took little effort to recognize them. "These three were from the original group." She said handing Dyson their photos. "The one on top is the guy who drove the van." She took a moment to study the remaining 2 photographs. "There were 5 men in the second group, including these two."

Dyson nodded and stashed the pictures back in the briefcase. "Did you get look at the other three who got away?"

"Yeah," Bo nodded grimly.

"You think you can sit down with a sketch artist?"

"Why not just pull a list of known associates? These guys don't look like upstanding citizen, surely they have records. You can bring me pictures, and I can tell you who was there with them." Bo hedged, not wanting to get involved with the investigation.

Instead of addressing Bo's question, Dyson pivoted to the proverbial elephant in the room. "If you weren't part of either group and did not participate in the shootout, why did you hide from the cops?"

"Can't a girl have some secrets?"

Dyson just looked back at her, silent and infinitely patient. This was interrogation technique 101 – most people are uncomfortable with silence, so if one person is quiet, the other feels the need to fill the silence with blabber, often revealing more than they wished.

Bo was aware of the technique, but it didn't mean she couldn't fall prey to it. "I'm sure you've run a background check on me, thanks to those fingerprints you took. You know my aliases. And you know I've never been convicted of a felony and there are no outstanding warrants for my arrest. Can't we leave it at that?"

Dyson stayed silent until he was sure Bo was absolutely done talking and would not divulge anything else. "I'm guessing some of the people you work for have access to police records, and if your name was to turn up in association with a case, it wouldn't be good for you."

Bo would neither deny nor confirm that he was right, so she opted for a vague "Something like that."

A sharp look from Dyson told Bo that this conversation was far from over. But he relented for now. "Last question, Bo. Do you think the men in the second group were aiming for you, or was it a stray bullet?"

"Hard to say." Bo admitted. "When the shooting started, I wasn't a threat to them, since I was unarmed. I got the impression they didn't have orders to execute me – one of them said it didn't matter if they found me – but who's to know for sure?"

Dyson absorbed the information, nodding at her reasoning. "OK, I'll keep you out of any records, just to be safe. And the sketch artist doesn't usually know what case they are working on, so that won't be a problem. I'll have him come here first thing tomorrow." He ignored the disgusted look he got from Bo. "Not negotiable, Bo."

"Fine," she bit out. "Are we done with the interrogation?"

"Sure," Dyson smiled, relaxing into the chair, now that the tough conversation was over and they could return to the semi-flirtatious tones.

"How about you answers some of my questions?" Bo challenged.

Dyson gestured with his hands for her to proceed. He was looking forward to getting reacquainted, and sharing some stories from the last 16 years of his life.

But Bo's first question burst that happy bubble right-quick. "What's going to happen to Lauren if it comes out that she's dating her boss?"

"What makes you think it's not public knowledge now?" Dyson parried, his mood souring.

"Because every employee handbook I've ever seen lists this as a dismissible offense."

"Why do you care?" Dyson sighed, getting up from the chairs and walking into the kitchen, when he unerringly located the cabinet with glasses and a liquor cabinet. Bo noted that Dyson must have visited Trick a fair number of times to be this familiar with his kitchen set up.

"You're the one who mentioned Evony. You wanted me to look into her." Bo watched Dyson as he ambled around the kitchen, making himself a sandwich to go with a double shot of whisky he already poured, keeping his back to her the whole time. "She's been a Chief Medical Examiner for about a year, and supervises two MEs – Lauren, who joined on the same day as Evony, and Robert, who's been the ME for 19 years." Bo continued, hoping for some reaction from Dyson. "She's got a PhD in forensic pathology from some second rate university, and is not very highly regarded by her peers in scientific circles. But since becoming the Chief ME, she's been in the news more than 20 times, always with an announcement of a breakthrough in the case, which is credited to her office. Anything you care to add?" The dry facts she glimpsed of Evony Morrigan's career, before she slammed shut the lid on her laptop, were underwhelming, at least until a year go. But the picture in her bio was anything but. Simply put, the woman was stunning.

"She's a better administrator than a forensic pathologist." Dyson supplied, unhelpfully.

"And that's enough for everyone to turn a blind eye on her sleeping with a subordinate?"

Dyson drained the double shot of whiskey and poured himself another.

"They turn the blind eye because of Lauren." He hissed through clenched teeth, not elaborating further.

Frustrated, Bo glared at the back of Dyson's head. He was reluctant to talk about the blonde doctor, reminding her of the silly, one-sided rivalry that Dyson had with Lauren in High School. Was he jealous again? She supposed she'd given him reason to be. It was time to change tactics.

"Maybe I should just ask Lauren herself. She's not going to hold a grudge over the silly argument we had before Trick took me home, not after I invite her over for dinner and promise her Trick's famous Irish Whiskey Cake, and what's left of his whiskey." Bo said offhandedly.

Dyson had no trouble reading between the lines of her message, and tried to curb the earlier stab of jealousy. Jealousy didn't look smart or sexy on any man, and Dyson strived to be a better man that most. He took another swig of the whisky, placing the empty glass on the counter next to the half-assembled sandwich. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned to face Bo, leaning heavily on the cabinet behind him.

"Lauren is the brains of the operation," he shared. "She only works part time at the ME office, but in the last year our clearance rate had gone up 40%. We now have the fourth highest clearance rate in the country, and will probably go up this year. The police chief, the district attorney and a mayor would shit a collective brick if she hinted at resignation. She gets all the toughest cases, leaving all the straightforward ones to Robert, the other ME; Evony handles administration and public relations. Lauren doesn't want any credit, and Evony loves to bask in public adoration, so that's why it's her on the news instead of Lauren. And no one cares who she sleeps with."

Bo sucked in a few deep, calming breaths. At least this version of Lauren – brilliant and unassuming – meshed better with the image of awkward teenager she remembered. And her indignation at Evony for stealing Lauren's credit, that was no different than if someone told her a bully was stealing Lauren's lunch in High School. She would probably never be rid of the protective instinct when it came to the younger woman.

"Why does she work part time?" Bo wondered out loud. Lauren was never one for leisure time.

"It's not common knowledge, but when she's not at the ME's office, she works for a bio lab. And Evony is the owner."

"That's hinky." Bo noted, grimacing.

"Hrmp" Dyson murmured, agreeing with Bo's assessment of the situation. Not much was known about the private lab were Lauren worked, but working two jobs under the same boss and sleeping with her – was raising all kinds of red flags in Bo's and Dyson's minds.

Draining his second glass of whiskey, Dyson reached back for the rapidly emptying bottle.

"Why don't you bring the bottle over here, and another glass for your wounded friend, while I make us some sandwiches? It's the least I can do to thank you for getting me out of the damn vent, and not handing me over to your cop buddies." Bo offered.

"Now we're talking!" Dyson brought over the bottle and glasses, and dropped onto the couch next to Bo, who used his shoulder and an armrest to get up. "Make mine with mayo!" Dyson instructed, pouring the shots and getting comfortable. For a second he thought about closing his eyes and pretending that the last 16 years didn't happen. Then he remembered what a dazzling woman Bo grew into, and decided he liked this version more.

**TBC**


	14. Chapter 14

(See notes at the end of the chapter)

The black pickup truck was carefully edging around the corner, its driver mindful of two dressers and a couch tied upright in the back.

"You know," Dyson said, checking the rear-view mirror to make sure nothing had shifted after the turn, "I could have gotten you some furniture that's in a much better shape than that." He nodded towards the bed of the pickup.

"I know, but I want _this_ furniture." Bo insisted from the passenger seat. "You're just grouchy because you are worried my furniture will leave scratches on your shiny new pickup."

"We can't all drive a 30 year old Camaro." Dyson huffed.

"I like my car, and 30 years old or not, it still runs great." Bo defended her yellow spitfire.

"I remember the day you got it, it was old and rusty then."

"And I remember your face when you realized I got it without you." Bo couldn't help teasing her friend.

"What did Lauren know about cars? I had 4 in my garage." Dyson refused to let go of the ancient hurt.

"It was your dad's garage, not yours. And I don't know how much she knew, but she said the car was solid, and it was."

"Lucky guess." Dyson grumbled.

"I thought you got on OK with her these days. You took me to her to get treated, you must have known she could." Bo enquired, curious about the relationship those two had. She asked Lauren about it, after she called to apologize for her behavior and to thank the blonde, but the ME was tight-lipped on the subject, mumbling something about doctor-patient confidentiality. They had talked on the phone a few times after that, and although the blonde said she'd forgiven her, Bo still felt as if she was being held at arm's length. Dyson, on the other hand, seemed to have come around quickly, not holding a grudge for her abrupt departure 16 years ago.

"She'd helped me a few times, so I thought you'd be relatively safe in her care." Dyson admitted.

"You?" Bo raised both eyebrows in disbelief. "Trying to save on health insurance premiums?"

"No," Dyson said, irritated. "Just some things I didn't want to chance getting into my official file." He regretted saying the last thing instantly, seeing a familiar glint in Bo's eyes. She would be relentless until she ferreted out the truth.

Sure enough, Bo piped up immediately. "Like what?"

"None of your business." He growled, though he know she would not be intimidated.

A crackle of a police radio interrupted the bickering. "All available officers, report to the corner of Pike and 114th Street. Emergency vehicles are en route…" Dyson turned off the radio when his phone rang, caller ID indicating a call from his office.

"Wolfs…" Dyson listened intently for about a minute before ending the connection and flooring the gas pedal, no longer worried about the furniture as it slammed into the side when he took the next corner at double the recommended speed limit.

"A car crashed into café downtown, just a block away from the capitol building, and exploded. We don't know anything else, but my boss wants to be sure it's not a terrorist act." He said by the way of explanation.

Bo just nodded and settled in for a bumpy ride.

They arrived about 15 minutes later to join in the organized chaos that was visible and audible from blocks away. Police cars, ambulances, fire trucks and a very conspicuous 'Bomb Squad' truck already on the scene, uniformed men and women darting about with purpose.

Dyson jumped out of the truck, flushed his detective badge at the nearest cop and was immediately directed towards the crashed vehicle, Bo following hot on his heels.

The wounded pedestrians have all been carried off to the ambulances and the fire has been extinguished by the time they reached the crash site, so there was nothing obstructing their view. It wasn't the worst scene either of them had witnessed, but it was still jarring.

"Looks like he jumped the curb. The speed limit here is 20, so either he was already going faster or he accelerated just before ramming the building." Dyson observed.

The front end of the Jeep Cherokees was fully inside the café, and the damage from the explosion was clear. The back end was sitting on the sidewalk, which was littered with glass shreds, debris from the building and a few bloodied gauze pads leftover from where the injured were treated by first responders.

A uniformed officer walked over to them and gave Dyson a quick report. The bomb squad don't see any active devices and the driver of the car was left in his seat for the ME to examine. The witness statements were consistent – the Jeep didn't draw any attention prior to the crash; it was not moving erratically or faster than other vehicles on the street at that time. It turned suddenly and without warning, crossing the sidewalk and driving straight through the display window of the café, scattering pedestrians and exploding seconds after impact.

Dyson nodded, then pointed to the rear license plate that was relatively intact. "Do we know who the car belongs to?"

"No," The officer shook his head. "The plates came back as fake, we will try to recover what was left of VIN numbers once the body is removed."

They were interrupted when ME vehicle stopped right next to three of them. Dyson looked up and frowned when he saw Robert, the other ME serving the city, climb down from the car.

"Is Lauren coming?" Dyson asked the older man.

"No, but I'm at your service." Robert retorted tersely, obviously unhappy to be reminded that in the crunch detectives preferred his much younger colleague, who only had a year of forensic experience compared to his 15. The blonde ME was brilliant and had delivered tremendous results, but he was a competent ME. To be relegated to mundane cases for the last year has been grating on his pride.

Dyson didn't acknowledge the dig. Wasting no more time on the other ME, he grabbed his phone and dialed a number from contact list. "Lauren, I need you downtown right now." He listened to her answer for a few moments, then hung up and turned back to Robert, who's been watching the detective with a resigned expression. "She's already on her way, she asked that you remain here, but don't touch the body until she gets here."

"Fine. I'll start on evidence collection from around the vehicle." He moved off to get his equipment and Dyson was left alone with Bo again. He gave her a long look, trying to communicate without words that she should not be at his crime scene, but Bo didn't budge.

"I won't disturb anything, I'll just stand here and watch." She pointed at the ground where she was standing. "Just here, I promise."

"Fine." Dyson conceded, deciding that trying to get Bo to leave wasn't worth his time and effort. He put on a pair of rubber gloves and took a stack of evidence bags from ME as he passed the man, already bending over to photograph a bloodied shred of glass on the ground. Walking around the car, he looked in to see the charred remains of the driver and did his best to take shallow breaths, the arid smell making him nauseous.

Lauren arrived a few minutes later. She walked towards Dyson, but faltered momentarily when she saw Bo standing a few feet away. "Bo."

"Lauren."

The two women greeted each other somewhat stiffly. Lauren looked like she wanted to ask Bo what she was doing at the scene, but shook her head as if to dispel the nagging thoughts. Trying to put the brunette out of her mind, she continued walking towards Dyson and the vehicle, pulling her hair in a tight ponytail and snapping on a pair of gloves in the process.

"Details, whatever you have." She addressed Dyson, completely in the zone now.

"Not much to tell. Witnesses saw the car seemingly purposely drive into the building. A few seconds later there was an explosion. Because of the proximity to the capital building we are investing this as a potential terrorist attack. That's why I called you – we need to know as soon as possible if this was some nut job or a terrorist." He pointed to the driver seat of the crashed vehicle. "We need to ID this guy right away."

Lauren stuck her head through the passenger side, careful not to touch the still smoldering metal and plastic.

"I need protective masks for everyone and a liter of vegetable oil." She said to no one in particular.

"Why vegetable oil?" Dyson asked from the other side of the car, already putting on his own mask and handing one to Lauren.

"The oil will loosen the burned body parts stuck to the metal." She supplied, walking to stand at the front of the vehicle, her eyes moving from item to item, mentally cataloging the clues.

Bo watched Lauren move around, and wondered at her detached manner and visible lack of emotion. Both Dyson and Robert showed some distress around the badly burned remains, but not her. Either she was really good at disassociating, or the remains weren't the worst she'd ever seen.

"The windshield blew inward, towards the driver. I think we'll find a lot of melted glass in his flesh when we do the autopsy. At first glance, it's inconsistent with a damage we typically see from car bombs." She pointed out.

Dyson, who was just coming back having acquired a jug of vegetable oil from somewhere, reached for his notepad to make a note, when two men in crisp black suits and sunglasses stepped up to the vehicle.

"Feds." Bo hissed under her breath. Sure enough, one of the men flashed his ID at Dyson, FBI clearly visible on the cover. The other approached Lauren and firmly asked her to step away.

Lauren looked at Dyson, but the detective just shook his head. He was being relieved, and though he didn't like it any more than ME, he was powerless to do anything about it.

Lauren's face lost its emotionless mask and turned red with fury. She reached into a pocket of her lab coat for her phone, glaring at the two men in suits.

"Evony," she greeted the chief ME when call connected. "I'm at the scene, but Feds are tacking over." She watched as the feds moved everyone outside of the perimeter and relieved Robert and Dyson of all the evidence they have collected, even going as far as confiscating the memory card from Robert's camera. "They have taken all the evidence, and will be moving the body and the car to their lab. Can you get them to include me in their investigation?" She listened for a few seconds, obviously not liking what she was hearing. "I understand, please do what you can, I want in on this, Evony." She emphasized one more time before disconnecting.

"What is it, Lauren?" Dyson asked, obviously curious at her odd behavior. He knew Evony could pull some strings, but getting Lauren on the Fed's team would be a very tall order.

"She's going to try" Lauren said, as if she didn't really hear the question.

"I know, but why do you want it so bad?" Dyson persisted, clearly still in the detective mode.

"I think the driver may have been Congolese." Lauren answered, as if it explained everything. Perhaps it did.

"Based on what?" Dyson pressed for details.

"His facial epidermis was completely decimated, but his scull structure suggests he's from Central Africa. Also, even obscured by the damage from the fire, there were some visible markings in his face. The design of these marks is consistent with tattoos that both men and women receive to identify which tribe they belong to. It's a practice common in Congo. The tattoos are really more like scars, they are cut into the skin of face and chest."

Dyson nodded. "Maybe Evony can find a way to force them to share the investigation with us." He offered, but did not feel optimistic. Feds didn't like to share, and would only do so if tremendous pressure was applied.

The feds were making quick work of the scene, and a short while later they could see a humongous tow truck backing into the street. Lauren's frustration reached a critical point when she realized the car and its occupant were about to be packed up and loaded on the FBI's truck. She turned to her two companions, desperate for any reprieve.

"What do you need?" Bo asked the blonde woman.

"Tissue samples for DNA, and some fragments for residue analysis." Lauren answered immediately.

"OK, give me a minute." Bo strode towards the two men who were directing a team of techs preparing the car for transport. Dyson and Lauren followed on her heels, curious.

One of the feds intercepted Bo long before she could reach the car. "Ma'am, no one is allowed near the evidence. Please step back." He barked sternly.

Bo stopped her forward movement and held up her hands, palms out.

"Sir," she addressed the suit. "My name is Bo Denis, I'm a freelance PI, but I do some work for the police department on occasion. I was just telling Detective Wolfe that I thought I smelled mustard gas when I examined the remains."

The man looked at Bo incredulously.

"Listen, I understand you're skeptical, but I've done some work for US government in the Middle East, and I saw firsthand the victims of chemical attacks. You don't have to take my word for it, just ask our ME, she can confirm this." Bo pointed at Lauren.

Catching on quickly, Lauren stepped up to the man. "The large blisters visible in some places on the skin of the driver are consistent with blisters caused by sulfur mustards, or 'Mustard gas', as it's more commonly known. It has a distinctive smell resembling a mustard plant."

"I just smell burnt flesh." Retorted FBI agent.

"And that's why you are an agent and not a Medical Examiner." Lauren parried. "You should know that Mustard gas is a persistent weapon that remains on any exposed surfaces for days and continue to cause ill effects. Anyone who comes into contact with exposed surfaces or materials will be poisoned."

"You should call in a Hazmat unit for decontamination of this whole site and to clear the vehicle before it's moved, or you may inadvertently contaminate a larger area and cause dispersion of gas where it can sicken your team and bystanders." Bo continued smoothly.

The fed looked between the threesome, trying to make up his mind. Finally deciding, he turned to the crew and yelled for them to stop preparations for towing, then got on a phone with a local CDC and requested a Hazmat team. "We'll take it from here." He told them curtly and turned his back to them.

They took a few steps back, to be out of fed's earshot.

"What did that get us?" Lauren asked Bo when they had some privacy.

"Half-way." Bo smiled. Lauren was looking at her with hope clearly readable in her big brown eyes and Bo relished being able to do something important for her childhood friend to make up for treating her poorly several weeks ago.

Dyson watched the two in silence, not interfering. When Lauren's phone rang a few minutes later, and Lauren identified the caller as Evony, he hoped that the Chief ME would be able to come through with something that would make Bo's plan irrelevant, but when Lauren ended the call it was clearly not the case.

"She says she's tried everything, even the governor. But the FBI had classified this as a terrorist attack and are in complete control of the evidence and investigation." She told the other two.

A moment later Dyson's phone rang, and his chief informed him of about the same. FBI was running this show and he would get no further access to anything. This, more than anything, made him mad. "Lauren, if we get the tissue and some fragments, can you determine conclusively what the explosion was caused by and ID the driver?"

"I will not be able to determine the cause of the explosion, but I may be able to rule out the presence of explosives." Lauren replied. "And DNA from a tissue sample would have to be matched to something, unless it's already in the database."

Dyson nodded in agreement, then turned to Bo. "I am not allowed to investigate this any further, but this is my turf, and we need to know what happened here, we can't rely on feds to share anything with us. Can you investigate and report anything you find to me? I won't be able to pay you officially, but we can work out some kind of deal on the side, some type of barter agreement for services rendered." He was still serious, but his tone changed to somewhat playful on the last sentence.

Lauren looked up sharply at the mention of barter and services rendered, but chose not to interrupt.

Bo, on the other hand, laughed at Dyson's suggestion. "Sure, I can direct you to some places that can benefit from your attention." Only after she said that, she looked over at Lauren, who was staring at her feet and visibly clenching her jaw, clearly uneasy and embarrassed to be near them.

Banter between her and Dyson came easily to Bo, partially because of their shared history, and partially because Dyson has always been easy going and playful. But Bo vowed to not be the cause of 'that' look on Lauren's face again, especially not now, when they were on such shaky ground with each other. So she tried to decode her comments for the blonde woman. "I bought a house last week. A real fixer-upper, and I'm in desperate need of cheap labor to make it livable. I've been asking Dyson to help, but he was finding excuses to say no. Now I have the leverage to put him to work." She watched Lauren's jaw muscles and posture relax incrementally at her words.

"Do you need to borrow some money for repairs?" Lauren asked, making an effort to look into Bo's eyes.

"Nah, I'd rather rope friends into working for beer and pizza. Say, you have steady hands, you can probably paint a straight line without putting on masking tape. Want to come over help me paint?"

"Maybe, I'm really busy these days." Lauren hedged, though Bo could see she was probably more suspicious of the request than opposed to helping out. Well, damn, rebuilding trust will not be easy with this woman. But maybe she'll get a chance while working on this case.

Just then a Hazmat truck arrived, and Bo excused herself.

People (it was impossible to determine the gender of those wearing baggy, full-body Level B protective suits and masks) started to emerge from the truck with various pieces of equipment. Some started to put up a plastic curtain that covered the crash site from all sides, others walked around swabbing surfaces and rushing back inside the truck to analyze them.

Dyson and Lauren watched the proceedings from a safe distance, until one suit-covered figure approached them with a large evidence bag in hand. The person thrust the bag at Lauren. A voice that issued from under full face-piece was unrecognizable due to distortion, but intonations were familiar. It also helped that Bo called Lauren by name.

"Lauren, put this on. I'll start on gathering some car fragments, the tissue samples are all yours." she said from inside her suit.

Lauren spared a second to wonder how the other woman managed to snag two suits with no one noticing, then abandoned the effort and grabbed the bag, hurrying into the cordoned off shop right next to embattled café to don the suit she was given. She emerged a few minutes later, blending in easily with the rest of the unit, each carefully attending to their function. She collected several tissue samples as well as fragments of fabric and bits of glass and metal embedded in the flesh, sealing all items in a new evidence bag, then just as stealthily returned to the shop to remove the suit and stash away her bag. When she entered it, Bo was already there, removing her own suit.

"Did you get everything?" Brunette asked, using her hands to fluff up the hair that was flattened by the hood and the face-piece.

"Yes, thank you!" Lauren replied happily. "What do we do with these?" She handed Bo her suit.

"I'll have to put them back, or they'll notice them missing." Bo answered, apparently confident in her ability to replace them just as easily as she removed them. Lauren didn't ask for details. She grabbed the samples she and Bo collected and headed out. "I'll be in my office," she dropped over her shoulder at the brunette, but didn't stop to see if her comment was heard, focused on the task at hand.

When Bo walked into ME's office an hour later, she found Lauren bent over a counter, fidgeting with some kind of device she couldn't see clearly, since Lauren's body was in the way. The blonde was cursing under her breath. A few moments later she jerked her hand away, hissing in pain, then slammed something shut. She raised her hand to within an inch of her nose to examine the injury, then brought an index finger into her mouth, sucking gently.

"You all right there, Lauren?" Bo enquired from just behind the blonde, startling her. She spun around, removing the finger from her mouth and looking mildly embarrassed at being caught.

"The printer jammed, and I couldn't clear out the paper that's stuck between some gears." She explained her predicament.

"Why don't I take a look while you fill me in on what you found so far?" Bo offered, bending over the printer and opening the same panel Lauren just shut. She could see the tiny jagged edges of the jammed sheet that Lauren tried to clear out.

"There isn't much to tell yet. Mass-spec is still chewing on first sample."

Bo pocked around the gears some more, prickling her finger on something sharp. She smiled when her reaction was to put it in her mouth to soothe the pain, same as Lauren's. "Do you have a pair of tweezers?" She asked, still examining the inner workings of the printer.

"On the counter to your left. Already tried that." Lauren grumbled. She watched the brunette try to extract the stubborn pieces for a few minutes, then realized she didn't have the patience for broken machinery. Pulling a phone out of lab coat, she dialed a familiar number.

"Evony, I need a new printer for my ME office. How soon can you get one?" She said into the phone. Evony's answer was pretty short, but obviously satisfactory. "That works, thank you." The blonde said, ending the connection. Bo had managed to work one of the pieces out in the meantime, and she turned to Lauren, triumphantly holding up her prize clenched by a pair of tweezers. Lauren didn't look very impressed, probably because she knew there were at least 4 other pieces left in the gears. "The new printer will be here in an hour." She told Bo, which deflated brunette's jubilation considerably. She put down the tweezers and walked over to Mass spectrometer, examining the information scrolling through on the screen.

"So, this all is not telling you anything?" She pointed at the element names and numbers scrolling down at an unreadable speed.

"It does, but it's pointless to examine the incomplete data. I need to wait until all components are identified before making any conclusions."

Bo brushed her hands down her jean-clad thighs, clearly impatient.

Relenting, Lauren reached for one of the evidence bags. "We can start on this." She dumped the contents on the examination tray and picked up a pair of glasses with magnifying lenses and a fresh pair of surgical tweezers.

Bo walked closer and bent over the object. "Is that a tooth?" She asked, mildly disgusted by the sight of a molar.

"Yes, we can learn a lot about a person from their teeth." Lauren informed the brunette. "I should be able to infer his country of origin from this, and maybe what he ate for breakfast today, even without his bones or his stomach content." She started by tacking some scrapings from the surface and placing them into another machine to analyze. The results came out almost immediately, and she returned to her desk to continue her examination.

"What can I do?" Bo asked, feeling out of place.

"Isn't this kind of what you do – find people?" Lauren looked up at the other woman, not understanding her question.

"Yes, but I need some parameters to narrow down my search. Is there nothing you can tell me about the crispy critter?"

Lauren flinched at the moniker. "Please don't call him that." She requested gravely.

"Sorry, I guess you have some kind of a personal connection here…" She left room for the other woman to elaborate.

But Lauren did not oblige. "I do." she confirmed succinctly. "I'll tell you about it later."

"OK." Bo accepted her friend's request for time. For now.

She perched on the edge of the table and leveled her gaze with the blonde. "So what can you tell me about him – definitive facts or suppositions, I'll take it all."

Lauren pulled her notes and printouts to her and scanned through some measurements and observations she noted. "I can tell you definitively that he's male, between 25 and 45 years old, 160 to 165 centimeters in height, slim." Bo grabbed a sheet of paper and started scribbling notes while Lauren spoke. The blonde perused the results she just pulled on the tooth. "I still think he's Congolese, but even if he's not, he's definitely from Central Africa. And I think he's come here fairly recently. Less than a year ago, based on the accumulated levels of fluoride in his tooth from tap water." Sighing deeply, she put the papers down. "I wish I had a body to examine. There is so much more I could have gleaned from that."

"This is a good start, Lauren. Let me do some digging around, and if I find some candidates for his family, I'll bring some hairs for DNA match."

"No need to be barbaric and pull people's hair out. Take these." She handed Bo a stack of packets with DNA swab sticks.

"Thanks," Bo said, grateful, but knowing from experience that most people, especially those with a reason to mistrust authority, would never voluntarily submit to a cheek swab. Hairs were easier to obtain, but only their roots had DNA information. So she usually went for a combination of items, whatever she could get her hands on. "Call me if you find anything else."

The blonde nodded distractedly, already consumed by examination of another article she pulled from the evidence bag.

By late evening Bo was on the way back to the lab, exhausted but hopeful that she made substantial progress in the case. She dialed Dyson, knowing the detective was wearing a hole in the rug waiting for her update.

As expected, he picked up on the first ring. "Bo, what do you have?"

"Manners!" Bo chided, but relented almost instantly. "I think I found who the driver was. I'm on my way back to Lauren to confirm his DNA. We should know in little while for sure. If I'm right, though, I can tell you right now that it was likely not a terrorist act."

"What makes you say that?"

"I talked to his family, some of his coworkers. There are no signs of radical beliefs or suicidal behavior. Also, if he were to have explosives in the car, he'd have a pretty small window in which to pick them up. Your hunch about a chop-shop was right on. The car from the incident was fresh off of their re-assembly line, and our victim worked there. He was delivering the car to the buyer on the other side of town when the incident happened. I don't know what it all adds up to yet, but it doesn't seem like terrorism."

"Well, let's confirm his identity first, then try to figure out his motive."

"Yeah. I'll call when we have it confirmed." Bo promised. "Do you have anything for me on that other case?"

"Just what you already knew or suspected." Dyson said, a touch disgruntled. "I ran a check, and there is no record of police report filed for theft at BioEve labs. So either whatever was in those containers was crazy dangerous and they don't want anyone to know it's in the wind, or not worth anything."

"There is a third option." Bo commented. "The stolen materials may not belong to them in the first place. Biochem, big pharma, these are cutthroat establishments with about a billion reasons to engage in industrial espionage. Besides, the people who hired me, they mean business. So at the very least I would discard the theory that what's in those containers is not valuable."

"Point taken. Let me see if Evony knows anything about this." Dyson offered.

"Do you think there is a connection between BioEve and Evony's biolab?"

"I don't, but since my police connections turned up nothing, I thought I'd engage my one and only biolab contact."

Bo felt uneasy about the turn of events. "Dyson, I don't want to owe this woman anything." She said quietly.

"I figured, which is why I'll ask her about it." Dyson assured her, and Bo was monumentally grateful for the thoughtful and kind act. "I'll be in touch." Dyson said, hanging up.

She tapped the finger on the steering wheel. A million thoughts were running through her tired mind, and she desperately needed a 'pick-me-up' before reaching Lauren's lab. The DNA test would take about 2 hours, and the blonde still had a backlog of other tests to run that would likely take all night. If Lauren was going to spend a night at the Lab, Bo wanted to be there too, both to keep her company and to see if she could ferret any more information out of the doctor. Bo knew that when a person was tired, it was similar to where they were inebriated, both providing a perfect opportunity for gentle interrogation. For this plan to work, though, she herself would have to have her wits about her. She saw a sign for a coffee shop just up the street and gratefully pulled into the convenient parking spot, noticing only when she parked the reason the spot was empty – it featured a bright yellow water hydrant. Shrugging her shoulders, she fished out a garbage bag from the back seat and put it over the hydrant, then practically skipped over to the shop, just the smell of espresso sufficient to boost her energy and add a bounce to her step.

When she pushed open the door to the lab with her hip – weighed down as she was by a box of pastries balanced over a six-pack of beer in her hands and an evidence bag under one arm – she realized someone else was already in the room with Lauren. Her smile slipping off her face, she took a deep breath and turned to face the other woman fully. She was easily recognizable from the internet photos Bo have seen of her – exotic, beautiful, statuesque, and, if at all possible, even more striking in person.

Evony turned at the sound of the door opening, and the two brunettes had stood sizing each other up for a moment, until Lauren interrupted them by clearing her throat. That made both women look at the blonde, who had stuffed both hands into the pockets of her lab coat and balled them into fists, clearly uncomfortable in the moment. Nevertheless, she did not forget her manners.

"Bo, this is Evony Morrigan, my boss." She faltered a little bit on the last word and blushed from neck up. "Evony, this is Bo McCorrigan, my friend. She's also helping Dyson with this investigation."

Bo put down her burdens and extended her hand to the other woman. "I actually go by Bo Dennis now. It's a pleasure to meet you, Evony." She said, plastering a fake smile on her face to match the one directed at her.

Evony ran her eyes up and down Bo's figure, evaluating the woman. She kept a smirk on her face, but managed to look attractive none-the-less, even with this implied distain for the newcomer. Bo was mildly impressed, despite herself; but, either way, she was not going to let Evony's attitude affect her in the least.

"Lauren, I have a possible match to our driver." Bo handed Lauren the evidence bag.

Curious, Lauren put on a pair of gloves and extracted several smaller labeled bags. One contained a fork and was labeled 'mother', another a piece of gum and labeled 'son'. "I'll get right on this." She said, happy to have something occupy her attention other than the two brunettes churning up the awkward energy in the room.

"Speaking of the case," Evony addressed Bo, "I was just telling Lauren that I now have a contact on the FBI team. They are nowhere near to being able to ID the suspect, but so far all the tests they've run on the vehicle and at the scene show no explosives."

"That's consistent with my findings so far as well." Lauren noted, not taking her eyes of the object she was examining.

Evony nodded at the blonde, then turned back to Bo. "The FBI are now contemplating the possibility that post-collision explosion was accidental."

"Are they ready to turn the case over to local PD?"

"No, they are still considering it a terrorist act."

"Damn." Bo muttered. She noticed that Lauren, too, seemed upset by that news. "You know, if we could get the onboard computer from the car, we can tell where it's been and prove that he drove straight from the chop shop to the café."

Lauren had perked up at that and turned to Evony. "Can you get that from FBI?"

Evony smiled indulgently at the blonde. "I'll see what I can do, darling."

Bo watched the exchange with some trepidation. She was not prepared to be upstaged by the other woman. "How are you getting this?" She asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

Evony turned her dimpled smiled to Bo. "You have your ways, Ms. Dennis, I have mine." She kissed Lauren on a cheek, a mischievous smile firmly in place, then left without saying goodbye.

Bo watched the scene unfold, and didn't miss the fact that Lauren didn't kiss Evony back.

"So, what's the story with you and Evony? Are you two together?"

Lauren took a deep breath before answering. "In a way."

"Don't tell me 'it's complicated'." Bo teased.

"I was going to say 'it's convenient'." Lauren shrugged.

"Wow, Lauren, that's cold."

Lauren looked up at Bo and met her gaze for the first time since this odd conversation started. "Maybe I'm cold."

"No." Bo was adamant in her reply. "One of my 'special skills' is knowing what kind of lover someone would be after observing them for just a few minutes. And you, my dear Lauren, are not cold."

Lauren smiled shyly. She turned back to the Rapid Identification device that she already prepped and inserted the first scraping from a fork Bo brought.

Bo was glad for a minute for herself. She felt her stomach flip when Lauren smiled and had to smother the urge to step up to the blonde and take her into her arms at that moment.

Lauren cleared her throat, still facing away from Bo. "It will take about 90 minutes to analyze the DNA sample. If it's from the mother of our victim, we'll be able to see it right away."

"I'm pretty sure I've got the right guy. Everything else about him fits to the T."

"How did you find him?" Lauren asked, glad to be talking about the case and turning the attention away from herself.

Bo didn't mind giving the blonde a summary of her efforts, but she held back on some details that had to do with her connections in the criminal organizations and the role they played.

"I started by finding out which of the local businesses hire Central African refugees. People who run these things, they tend to hire 'within a family' so-to-speak. The list wasn't that long, but it would still have taken many days to check them all, but one place stood out. Dyson mentioned at the scene that Jeep may have been re-assembled in a chop shop, so I went there first. Spoke with a few of the workers, and one of them told me that a Jeep was sent out for delivery earlier in the day and the driver didn't come back. I got his name and address and drove over to where he lived with his family. I talked to them for a while and got a chance to acquire the items I brought you to test his DNA against. So here we are."

"The workers at a chop shop just gave you all that information?" Lauren asked, skeptical.

Bo smiled, and this time it looked more rakish and predatory. "I have wit, I have charm, I have legs that go all the way down to the floor, and…" she paused, like an orchestra before grand finale. She sauntered over the blonde until they were within arm-reach and waited for Lauren to face her. Lauren did, and Bo made sure to lock gazes with the younger woman before putting her hands around her breasts and lifting them up, as if presenting them to the blonde. Predictably, the blonde dropped her gaze and focused on the magnificent display in front of her.

"Pardon?" Lauren asked, thinking she may have missed something the brunette said. There was a dull hum in her ears that prevented her from hearing anything for a few seconds.

Bo smiled at Lauren's flustered reaction. Exactly what she hoped for. "They are called breasts, Lauren. Better than detective's badge."

Lauren smirked. "In my experience, any number of things are better than detective's badge." She walked back to her desk and started entering information into a program on her computer.

"What is this mutual animosity you have with Dyson? It's like two dogs snapping at each other over a bone."

Lauren gave Bo a look from under her lashes. "You seriously don't know?"

Riiiight. Bo did know, could feel it in her bones, but knowing and understanding were two different things. And at the moment, Bo didn't understand Lauren.

"Help me out, Lauren." Bo murmured, voice gentle.

Lauren locked eyes with the other woman. Bo could almost see the gears moving in the blonde's head as she considered Bo's request. In the end, though, she turned back to her computer.

"I'm sorry, I need to concentrate on this." Lauren replied just as gently.

Bo nodded, and settled in to wait. About an hour and half later a machine beeped, and Lauren got up to check the results. "Come see this," she called out to Bo excitedly.

Bo walked over and looked at the screen that displayed two sets of results.

"This," Lauren pointed to the left side, "are the DNA results from the victim. And this," she pointed to the right side, "are results from the woman you think is his mother." She turned to face Bo, a beautiful smile stretching her lips wide. "We have confirmed his identity." Impulsively, she threw her arms around the brunette, hugging her tightly.

Bo's breath caught when strong arms encircled her and her own hand inadvertently settled on the blonde's hair. The feel of the body pressed against hers, the heat of the cheek just barely brushing by hers, the smell of shampoo and perfume, the texture of hair – these sensations were dizzying, overwhelming, breathtaking. Bo relished the moment. But it ended as quickly as it started, Lauren stepping back and brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, looking down and away from Bo, blushing furiously.

"Thank you for finding him so quickly" she said to fill the silence that suddenly felt awkward and stifling. "What was his name?"

"Mobutu Lumumba. He and his family fled the war in Congo after his wife, father and one of his young children were killed. They've lived here for just over a year, undocumented. Mobutu started working at the chop shop 11 months ago as a mechanic to support his mother and two surviving children. He was a good man. Hard working and dependable. No one who knew him would describe him as a radical or suicidal or an extremist. I think if we can help clear up his name before the FBI swoops in with all the subtlety of an African elephant, we'd be doing a good thing."

Lauren nodded, quietly satisfied with the answer. "The FBI will not give on terrorism charge willingly. I agree it's up to us to prove he was a victim."

"We will." Bo assured the younger woman and was reward with another brilliant smile.

"You should let Dyson know we identified the victim." Lauren reminded her.

"Oh, right. Dyson." Bo fished out her phone and dialed Dyson, giving him an update. When she ended the call, she perched at the end of the Lauren's desk, looking at the blonde.

"So Dyson has been stubbornly tight-lipped about anything to do with you, but I'm curious. I can tell he knows a few things about your past. Have you two stayed in touch all these years?"

"We have, though we haven't lived in the same city until about a year ago. After you left, we were not close. I think Dyson blamed me for driving you away back then. But at the end of the school year, before we both left for college, he tracked me down and said he was wrong, and that neither of us was at fault for whatever drove you away, and said we should exchange contact information and stay in touch. So over the years we would touch base with each other periodically." Lauren smiled sadly. "You know, I think each of us thought you may one day contact the other, so we stayed in touch just in case that happened."

"I'm sorry, Lauren." Bo said looking into blonde's eyes, trying to convey her sincerity.

"I know." Lauren nodded and put a hand on Bo's knee, needing to feel a tangible connection in that moment.

"So, tell me something." Bo placed her hand on top of Lauren's that was still resting on her knee. "What were you treating Dyson for? He wouldn't tell me."

Lauren smiled at Bo's not-so-subtle pivot. Was the brunette using her emotional state to dig for information? Tsk-Tsk.

"You know I can't tell you. It's covered by doctor-patient confidentiality." Lauren raised an admonishing eyebrow at the request. Her hand felt pleasantly warm resting on the leggings-covered knee. From time to time, Bo would use her thumb to brush the back of her hand and each time it sent tingles down to Lauren's stomach.

"Common Lauren, tell me." Bo pressed, leaning closer.

"No." It came out as a bit of a squeak, Lauren's systems going into overdrive at the other woman's proximity.

Bo noticed the widening pupils, the blushing cheeks, the pulsing veins. She felt her own heartbeat quickening in response. She didn't know what it was, it was too early for labels written in permanent marker, but there was lust in Lauren's gaze, and she was sure there was an answering one in hers. They needed time to explore this thing happening between them. They needed time to see where it would go. _'I'm in'_ Bo decided silently. Aloud, she said, "How about a wager? You don't have to say anything. I'll ask you some questions and guess what the correct answer is. If I guess correctly, you'll have dinner at my place once we close this case."

Lauren thought about the offer for a minute. Did she dare accept it? "First of all, let's limit the number of guesses. How about 3?"

"How about 5?" Bo haggled.

"How about 4?" Lauren offered.

"Settled!" Bo agreed immediately.

"Ok. So, what do I get if you are not able to guess correctly?"

"What do you want?" Bo asked, curious about what the blonde would request.

Lauren was silent for a moment. Did she dare do more than dip a toe into shark-infested water that was admitting her growing attraction to Bo? "I don't know what to ask for." She admitted quietly.

"You could ask for 'a favor to be named later', if you'd like." Bo proposed.

"That's a very generous offer, Bo." Lauren whispered, unsure if she was ready to wield that kind of power. Her hand on Bo's knee was burning now.

Bo smiled coyly. "I'm only making it, because I'm pretty sure I'll win the wager."

"Aren't we cocky?" Lauren teased the other woman.

"I can afford to be. I'm that good. To quote one of your heroes, 'I have many skills'."

Lauren was shocked. "You remember that Xena poster I had in my room?"

"Yes, and the galactic crush you had on her. How could I forget?"

Lauren laughed. '_Busted'_

"Have you heard of micro expressions?" Bo continued.

Blonde woman nodded. "Yes, these are universal facial indicators…."

"Precisely. And I am a bit of an expert. Let me show you." She stealthily moved the hand still resting on top of Lauren's, until her index finger was directly above the pulse point on Lauren's wrist. She placed the other hand on blonde's chin and turned up her face until they were facing each other squarely. For a minute she said noting, just looked into the fathomless depth of the other woman's eyes. Finally ready, she began the questioning.

"We know it was something he didn't want his work to find out." Bo contemplated aloud. "So it was either something incredibly stupid, or something embarrassing." She watched the blonde for any reaction, but so far Lauren wasn't letting anything show.

"Let's start with stupid," Bo went on. "Did he shoot himself?" Lauren's lack of reaction was an indicator of a miss. "No. OK. Did he run through poison ivy naked? No. Did he take Viagra and got one of those erections lasting more than 4 hours?" Lauren's eyebrow twitched in amusement, not in recognition of the fact. "No."

"That's 3 question, you have one left." Lauren reminded her friend.

"I know, and I can tell I'm getting closer. Let's switch to 'embarrassing'. Did he have a sexually transmitted infection?" She felt Lauren's pulse quicken and saw the pupils expand. "Bingo!"

She raised her hands in triumph, realizing too late that the gesture broke the tangible link she had with Lauren. The blonde withdrew the hand she kept on Bo's knee, and Bo felt a pang of disappointment until she realized Lauren didn't remove her hand just because it was no longer trapped in place by Bo's. She was reaching for the cellphone in her packet and accepting a call when she saw it was from Evony.

"Do you have any news?" She asked into the phone. Evony must have responded in the affirmative, because a moment later Lauren put the phone face up on the desk between them. "Hold on a second, let me put you on speaker, I want Bo to hear this."

"Yes," Evony's voice issued from the phone. "I'm talking to one of the investigators on FBI's team. They won't hand over the onboard computer, but they can run the tests here and give us the results. What do you want to look into?"

Bo thought for a second, before responding. "Let's see if deviated from course somewhere."

Evony spoke to someone in the room with her, then back into the phone. "They can run it, but they don't have the starting point or the intended destination, assuming it wasn't the café."

Bo and Lauren looked at each other, both feeling a little smug that they were still ahead of FBI on this. Bo reached into her pocket for a notebook, and read off the chop shop address and the address of Jeep's buyer into the phone.

"Give us a minute." Evony requested, then spoke with her contact. Bo and Lauren couldn't hear most of it, but it was clear that Evony was negotiating, using the information Bo provided for some kind of leverage.

"She's good at that." Lauren said to Bo. "Making connections, trading favors, there is no one better at that."

"To what end?" Bo inquired.

"She's going to run for a Senate seat in the next election, and she's going to win. She's getting a lot of on-air time due to her position as Chief ME, and she's gaining a lot of favors with influential people thanks to one of the projects we are working on at the biolab, not to mention the money."

Bo noted that Lauren was speaking matter-of-factly. There was no pride in her voice, but also no scorn. Just information.

"So what's in it for you?" She asked, but Lauren didn't have a chance to answer, because Evony was back on the line.

"The techs compared Jeep's course from the onboard computer with a most optimal route from the sop to the buyer and saw no deviations until about 20 seconds before the crash. The car went straight instead of turning right at the light on Pike, and crashing into café. Do you have any other ideas?"

"Are we still assuming he was a victim in this?" Lauren asked Bo. When brunette nodded in agreement, she turned to her computer. "I remember reading something about how hackers are able to break into devices with wireless connections. I think Jeeps were singled out as especially vulnerable to this type of attack for some reason. Here it is," she said after finding the right site. "Security industry calls it a zero-day exploit - software that lets hackers send commands through the Jeep' entertainment system to its dashboard functions, steering, brakes, and transmission, all from a laptop that may be across the country."

"We are checking now." Evony answered for the faceless FBI investigator who was running the tests. A few minutes passed, until finally there was an audible 'whoop' from the line. "I think it's safe to say the results were positive." Evony informed them calmly.

"Evony, if they can verify the car was wirelessly carjacked, they can turn the investigation back to Dyson, right?" Lauren inquired.

"No, darling, it just proves the driver was not at fault here." Evony responded gently.

"But Evony," Lauren complained.

"Lauren, this was never about jurisdiction. You wanted to prove this man wasn't responsible, and you did that. The FBI will continue to investigate, but they will treat his family as victims, not terrorists." Evony asserted.

Lauren hung her head. "You're right, thank you."

"All in a day's work, darling. I'll see you at home soon?"

"Yeah, I'll just finish typing up my notes on this case. Shouldn't be long." Lauren confirmed.

"Drive safe, you've been up for more than 36 hours."

Bo looked at her watch and was surprised it was indeed the morning. She waited until Lauren finished the call, thinking glumly that whatever convenient relationship the two women had, Evony obviously cared a great deal for the blonde. "I should be going too." She told the younger woman. "I'll call you about dinner at my place?" She reminded Lauren of their little wager from earlier.

Lauren seemed startled for a minute, but then she nodded her agreement. When Bo closed the door to ME's office behind her, she was thinking of the parting smile that lit up Lauren's face.

x

A/N #1: Read about wireless carjacking in the article in Wired magazine: www dot wired dot com /2015/07/hackers-remotely-kill-jeep-highway/

A/N #2: so, we are not in high-school anymore. Now that you've had a few 'grownup' chapters, do you still feel as if it's one coherent story? I really wanted to explore Lauren's formative years (or months, as was the case with this story), before dealing with them as adults. Was it wrong? Should I have divided the story into two, with the grown-up chapters as a sequel? The story has been envisioned as one, but it doesn't mean it had to be presented as such… Curious to know your thoughts. Also, what do you think about the second part/the direction we're taking?

A/N #3: These last couple of updates were harder to write and took longer. A lot of moving parts to juggle, a lot of research to make the story seem authentic. Also, I must admit I've been cheating on this story with another Docubus story. I've been splitting my time between the two, and will be posting the first chapter shortly. The working title is "All is fair in Love and Business Ventures." Hope you will forgive me for this selfish act of indiscretion.


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